Second Time Around
by CynCyrWrightings
Summary: What would you do if you were given a second chance at happiness? What would you do to keep it?
1. The Reason

He'd always told his younger brother that feelings were useless. They only got in the way of their jobs and family business. It was a lie, of course, every time he uttered the words, he knew he was lying because he'd been in love once. Had felt the pleasure and happiness that could be found with the other half of ones soul. He remembered the raven haired man who had gained his attention while at Uni. The rich, coffee brown eyes that had lit up with laughter and the way he would look at him...those dark, unfathomable eyes that seemed to see right down to his very soul. He'd been forced to leave him before graduating, his parents, having found out about their relationship, had Mycroft sent to a different school. The worst part was being unable to tell Greg goodbye. The fact that he'd been ripped from the one person to understand him had almost been crippling. The pain having been the worst he'd ever had to deal with in his life.

Then, five years after being forcibly separated, they'd found each other again. Despite the ups and downs in their relationship, they had been able to work things out, to untangle the web of lies in their lives and to finally make it work to where they fit again. Feelings from the past resurfacing stronger and deeper than before. Three years later, however, things changed...

Greg had been working on a serial murder case, Sherlock and John helping out, until the murderer had decided to turn the tables and go after John. He had succeeded in kidnapping him from his job at the hospital. His brother had called him in a panic looking for the former Army doctor, trying to see if Mycroft had seen anything. By the time Mycroft's people had discovered anything about John it had been early evening. While they searched the city, Mycroft had received a call about a bomb threat. Deciding not to tell Greg and Sherlock, he had his team search the vehicles. They were doing a final sweep by the time they left the station. Unfortunately, the discovery of the bomb under an unmarked car had proven to be to late...fatal in the worst way possible. Mycroft arrived at the scene minutes before the car had blown up...watching in horror as Greg and Sherlock still stood next to the car.

The recovery team had been able to locate Sherlock, bruised, bloody, and unconscious but alive, Greg had not been so fortunate. He had been sitting directly in the way of the blast, taking the full hit to the front of his body. Mycroft had watched as the emergency team had picked up his body from the ground and placed him as gently as possible on a stretcher. He heard the shouts of the EMT's who worked to save him. Had felt the hands of everyone who had tried to keep him from getting closer. Heard Anthea yelling at him that he didn't need to see, that it was to much for him to handle. He'd fought against the people holding him back, he needed to see for himself. To know that three years after having gotten married, he had not lost the other half of his soul...again.

He'd left the hospital that night in a daze, after checking in on his brother and John, he'd had his driver take him back to their house. The house he shared with Greg...the one he would be returning to...alone. It wasn't until he'd made it upstairs and into their bedroom, did he break. Giving into the tears that had kept him silent for most of the night. Sinking down onto the bed, Mycroft fell asleep hugging Greg's pillow. His tears spilled onto the soft fabric, until the only thing he could do was fall blissfully into the welcoming arms of exhaustion.


	2. Opening Questions

"If it's not raining outside, why do you carry an umbrella?"

Mycroft looked up at the sound of the rich, deep tenor, surprised to hear the voice and question directed at him. "It is merely a precaution." He answered automatically, silently studying the man in front of him. He looked away when a smile appeared on the strangers lips, sure his face was turning a light pink. "Is that how you usually start a conversation with a complete stranger?" Mycroft asked softly, watching as the other tried to hold in a chuckle.

"Mind if I join you? I mean, if you're busy I'll completely understand but you did ask a question after all and I feel like I should give you an answer."

Mycroft stared up into a pair of rich, dark brown eyes framed by the most outrageously long lashes he'd ever seen. "I, um, i-if you wish." Mycroft stammered. Frowning, he couldn't understand why he was so flustered by this stranger. Taking a deep breath, Mycroft watched as the other man pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

"Name's Greg Lestrade and you are?" Greg held out his hand across the table, a grin on his lips.

"I am Mycroft Holmes, Mr. Lestrade." Mycroft shook the hand held out to him, trying to suppress the shiver that raced through him at the short contact. He took a closer look at Greg, wondering why of all the people in the small cafe, would Greg want to sit with him.

"Now to answer your question, no, I don't usually open a conversation like that. It just seemed like a safer topic to go with versus approaching you with a smooth line and wicked smile." Greg grinned at Mycroft's shocked expression. He looked him over slowly, not missing the three piece suit, dark brown briefcase, and neatly folded newspaper. "Not used to someone taking into consideration how it would make you feel, yeah?" At the slow nod, Greg smiled as he leaned back in his chair. "And you're really not expecting anyone to join you later?"

"No, I assure you I am here alone." Mycroft tried not to stare at the man now sitting across from him. He was dressed in a black leather jacket. The chains and studs decorating the dark leather, shined and clinked when Greg moved. He had a head full of jet black hair, bangs falling in his face in a way that made Mycroft's fingers twitch. He wanted to brush back the dark stands, to push them off of Greg's face just to see his reaction. The desire to run his fingers through Greg's hair made him nervous. This was not a desire he could indulge in, no matter how appealing the other was. While Greg sat in silence watching him, Mycroft tried not to fidget. The dark, intense gaze was making his skin prickle with awareness, a sensation he was unaccustomed to. "May I ask a question, Mr. Lestrade?"

"Please, call me Greg. My mum calls me Gregory but my sister and everyone else calls me Greg."

Mycroft blinked at the correction but nodded, to stunned to give any type of sharp response. Clearing his throat, he started again. "May I ask you a question...Gregory?" He said the name softly, unsure if it would offend the other or not. When he looked up, Mycroft couldn't ignore the sudden look of interest in Greg's dark eyes.

Greg slowly leaned forward, nerves tingling in awareness of the posh man across from him. "You can as me whatever it is you want gorgeous."

Flushing in pleasure, Mycroft forced himself to keep his composure. Straightening, he held the smiling gaze across from him. "Why are you sitting here with me and not with your companions?" He'd seen the group behind Greg watching them. Had a sinking feeling that they were playing a joke at his expense. "Most people know who I am and avoid me, others would not make the effort."

"I've seen you around campus. You walk around with this air of being untouchable or unapproachable. I wanted to see for myself just how you really are." Greg held the ice gray gaze, noticed the flush darkening Mycroft's face the longer he sat at the table. "Am I making you uncomfortable or..." When Greg made the move to stand up, Mycroft stopped him with a soft sound of surprise.

"I...n-no. It is...most would not sit at the same table as I if they have already met my younger brother, Sherlock." Sighing softly, Mycroft watched as Greg slowly resumed his seat. A slow smile slowly curved his lips as he studied Mycroft. "I do not wish to keep you from anything important and anyone on campus can tell you..."

"That your brother has this unusually freaky ability to tell people their life history just by looking at them. I know, my roommate is in one of his classes and they seem to adore him." At Mycroft's look of worried panic, Greg frowned. "What's wrong, John isn't a bad sort. Actually he's one of the best blokes on campus and Sherlock seems to like him as well." When Mycroft paled, Greg moved forward. "Mycroft?"

"Is he...h-has Sherlock expressed any interest in your friend?" Forcing himself to remain calm, Mycroft scanned the small cafe. Sherlock was supposed to meet him here after class, if Greg's friend was the reason he was running late...

"Mycroft?"

Turning, Mycroft let out a soft sigh of relief at the sight of his younger brother. "Sherlock, you are late."

"Yes well it seems you were able to occupy your time while you waited." Sherlock studied the raven headed man sitting across from his brother "Just a forewarning, Lestrade, your attempt to get on my brothers good side will fail so if you will please excuse us..."

"Sherlock, there is no reason to be so rude. Mr. Lestrs...I-I mean, Gregory was simply chatting with me while I waited for you." Mycroft felt his face heating as he looked from his brother to the man across from him.

Sherlock dismissed the soft comment, bright gaze on the grinning man across from Mycroft. "How long have you been trying to get next to him with no success."

Greg grinned as he looked from Sherlock to Mycroft. "I wouldn't say _no success_, we were actually having a rather pleasant conversation concerning the weather and umbrella types." Holding the bright gaze across from him, Greg chuckled. "Your brother was telling me the reasons behind carrying one on a sunny day."

Looking from Greg to Mycroft, Sherlock slowly sat down next to his brother. "Mycroft?" He studied the other's profile, surprised to find him flushed and nervous. "Would either of you care to explain to me what is _truly_ going on?"

Dark gaze narrowing, Greg frowned at Sherlock's tone. "Like I said, your brother was sitting here alone and I seized the opportunity to talk to him. I'm not playing at any games. I _really_ wanted to know why he carried an umbrella." Giving Sherlock a hard look as he turned, Greg scowled. "And I haven't been trying to _get_ _next to him_. Your brother is gorgeous, if I want to get to know him that shouldn't be an issue."

"It is _not_ an issue, Gregory. Sherlock is very protective of me. Much as I am of him, so please forgive the questions, he is doing what brother's do best." Mycroft looked between Greg and Sherlock. He understood why his brother was concerned but he was also intrigued by Greg. There was something about the man dressed in jeans and leather jacket that appealed to him. When Greg looked at him from beneath his lashes, Mycroft had to force himself to remain still. His stomach fluttered at the dark, hot gaze moving over him. At the sound of someone clearing their throat, Mycroft blinked in surprise. Glancing over at Sherlock. "I apologize as well, brother, I did not give you the opportunity to introduce yourself."

Sherlock scowled at Mycroft, verdigris gaze narrowed on the flushed ginger next to him. "He already knows who I am, Mycroft, do not pretend..."

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned at the soft voice, blinking up in surprise at the worried gaze looking back at him. "Yes, John?"

John looked around the table, curious about the silent man studying him and the scowling man next to him. "Is everything alright? You, uh, you sounded upset, if I can help..." John held the luminescent gaze in front of him, stomach fluttering in excitement as he forced himself to remain still. "You sounded angry, Sherlock..."

Mycroft watched as Sherlock nodded, heart racing as he forced himself to remain calm. Whether his brother were aware of it or not, he had feelings for the blond standing next to him. "Hello, you must be John, Gregory's roommate." He could feel Greg's look of surprise but held the blue gaze. "I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother." Mycroft watched as John looked from Sherlock to Greg before turning back to him. "You are more than welcomed to join us, Mr. Watson." Mycroft watched as Sherlock whipped around, eyes narrowed in warning. "I am merely offering your friend the chance to allay his concerns." Holding the angry gaze, Mycroft forced himself to ignore Greg and John for the moment. He could see the warning written across Sherlock's face, knew there was going to be some form of a tantrum either at the cafe or later on in the day. When Sherlock slowly looked away, Mycroft let out a soft sigh of relief.

"For you two to be brothers, you don't seem to get on very well. Are you the reason Sherlock was yelling? Why, what did you say to ups..."

Mycroft cut John off with a hard look. "No, Mr. Watson, if you know my brother you know that there is nothing anyone can do to upset him, unless it is something he chooses to allow affect him." At John's scowl, Mycroft glanced over at his brother. He frowned at the worried look staring back at him. "He was merely worried I was getting in over my head with something."

"Or someone."

Mycroft blinked in surprise, turning to look at the grinning man across from him. "Gregory?"

"_God_, I love the way you say my name." Greg sat back in his chair, grinning at the blushing man across from him. Mycroft intrigued him more than anyone he's met, other than Sherlock. "John is right though, you two are completely different. Which isn't such a bad thing since I'm beginning to realize I like suits." When Mycroft's blush darkened, Greg felt his stomach clench. He forced back the image of them in bed, a blushing Mycroft laying beneath him...

Shaking his head, Greg let out a soft huff of laughter as he glanced at John. "It would seem we have more than just classes and sports in common, mate."

John nodded, looking between Sherlock and his brother. "Mmm, it would seem so." John said softly. He gave Sherlock a small grin at the surprised look. "Want to tell me why you were yelling now?"

"It is as Mycroft stated. I disagreed on his view of how certain situations should be...handled." Glancing over at Greg, Sherlock tried to hold back a scowl. He liked Greg, having met him through John, he'd found the other to be entertaining. Greg was one of the few upper classmen on campus who did not bully Sherlock for being one of the youngest students there. "Not everything he does is to my liking but I still worry." Sherlock glanced from John to his brother, a small curl of worry unfurling in his stomach. He remembered the last time Mycroft showed an interest in someone. The break up had left Mycroft devastated but he'd suffered in silence, hiding his pain from everyone...except the baby brother who always saw to much. "Now, if we can go back to why your roommate is sitting here with my brother..." Sherlock turned back to John with a look of wide eyed innocence. "You know Greg better than we do, John. Is he a danger to my brother?"

John forced himself to ignore the hot curl of lust unfurling in his stomach. Sherlock was underage but the look on his face...John jerked himself back to the present as a hand landed on his shoulder. Turning, he frowned to find Sebastian Moran grinning down at him. "Uh, hey Seb, what's going on?"

"Well, hello Johnny boy! Saw you over here with the freak and thought I'd come rescue you."

Stiffening in anger, John glanced back at Sherlock. The pale face and now flat expression made his chest constrict. "How many times do I have to keep telling you, he is not a freak. He just so happens to be smarter than most of us on campus."

"Yeah, yeah well this ability to tell our lives from a look is what a _freak_ like him would do. Although with that beautiful mouth..."

"Oui, watch _your_ mouth, Moran. I don't really appreciate your tone or the implication of your words. Either apologize to Sherlock and his brother or I'll _make_ you apologize." Greg spoke softly, voice tight as he held the angry, stormy blue gaze now focused on him. "Don't think you can take me either, we both know that's a challenge you're not ready to accept." Greg watched as Sebastian looked from him to John before turning to Sherlock. "And make it sincere, Moran. If _I_ feel it's less than, we will have words later."

John glared at Sebastian, waiting in angry silence as he struggled with his anger. "Spit it out Seb or leave. You have no right to disrespect Sherlock in such a way." Slowly standing, John watched as Sebastian stepped back. "We will talk later, hmmm?" Holding the angry gaze, John waited until Sebastian slowly backed away. When he disappeared from view, John let out a soft breath, forcing his hands to unclench as he turned back to the table. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, you shouldn't have had to hear that bit of idiocy." Shaking his head, John picked up his bag. "A-and I apologize to you as well, Mycroft. Not everyone on campus is as rude to Sherlock as Sebastian." Giving Sherlock a small smile, John glanced at Greg before turning and following after Sebastian.

"He will end up punching Seb for his words, always happens." Shaking his head. Greg stood up, reaching for the coffee cup in front of him. "Sherlock, I'll see you in class later?" When the dark head nodded, Greg grinned. "Good, if you need me to come meet you after physics..."

"N-no, umm, John...he, uh, John usually walks with me after class." Breathless, Sherlock tried to force back his reaction to John's anger. He had not been expecting John to defend him, not so strongly and in front of his brother. Looking up at Greg, Sherlock gave him a small smile. "I will see you in class."

Greg nodded in satisfaction before turning to Mycroft. "It was a great pleasure meeting you, Mycroft Holmes. I hope to see you again real soon." Giving Mycroft a wink, Greg turned and left the cafe, whistling softly as he disappeared into the afternoon crowd.

"He is not like the other, Mycroft. Lestrade is known to have a good heart with those he deems worthy." Studying the notes in front of him, Sherlock glanced up at his brother. "He and John hold study sessions with a few of their teammates struggling with their classes."

Mycroft frowned in concentration, thoughts going over his interactions with Greg. "And you are apart of these...study sessions?" He watched as Sherlock nodded, dark curls dancing around his face. "What subjects are part of this, group?" Curious, Mycroft waited as Sherlock turned to him with a thoughtful expression. "If you do not wish to..."

"Do you like Lestrade, he is rather popular among men and women alike." Sherlock studied his brother, thoughts going over everything he knew about Gregory Lestrade. "He comes from a good family. Father is military, mother a nurse, and his older sister is at University as well. He is the Captain of the football team as well as a member of the Junior Varsity debate team. Both he and John are members of one of the athletic fraternities as well."

Mycroft nodded, eyes on the coffee cup in front of him. It was luke warm at best and yet Greg had still taken a drink. "What do you do, specifically, Sherlock?" Looking up, Mycroft met the bright, angry gaze. "I do not mean to sound ill towards your friends. I am simply curious as to what subjects you are helping them with."

"Chemistry and phlebotomy. I am not as well versed in history as I would like but there are those who have passed despite my lack of knowledge." Shaking his head, Sherlock looked away from Mycroft. He hated having to admit his lack in knowing something, constantly aware of his brother's high expectations for him. "I am aware..."

"You are doing a very good thing, little brother." Mycroft cut Sherlock off with a small smile. "We will work on your history later, if you wish." When Sherlock nodded, Mycroft sighed. They didn't always get along but Mycroft loved his younger brother. When Sherlock had been admitted to Uni early, it had worried him. Not because he was afraid of Sherlock failing classes. Mycroft was afraid of someone taking advantage of his brother. "Perhaps I could attend one of your study sessions? If you are agreeable, that is?" Aware of Sherlock's intense need for privacy, Mycroft asked the question lightly. When Sherlock slowly nodded, Mycroft gave him a quick grin. "Now we must be off to classes, would you like to take something with you to eat or shall I bring something when classes are over?"

Sherlock studied the menu board, eyes moving quickly over the options posted. "Bring something sweet. Strawberries preferably and..." Frowning, Sherlock glanced over at Mycroft before letting out a soft sigh. "Bring something with chocolate. Lestrade and John both enjoy chocolate." Closing the book in front of him, Sherlock stood and turned to face his brother. "Will you be attending the music recital this evening or..."

Mycroft nodded, a surge of pride going through him as he thought about his younger brother. Sherlock was a talented violinist, for all of his knowledge, his playing was where he shined best. "I will be there of course. I would not miss your solo for the world."

Pleased, Sherlock nodded before giving Mycroft a quick once over. "I will see you at the end of classes then." Turning, Sherlock left the cafe, his coat flaring out behind him dramatically.

Smiling, Mycroft glanced back over to where Greg had been sitting. He was surprised by his anger towards one of his friends, especially since it concerned Sherlock. He was even surprised at the anger from John Watson on behalf of his brother. Shaking his head, Mycroft stood, gathering his briefcase, long coat, and umbrella. He glanced down at the long, slim handle. Black polished wood that hid a blade if he needed added protection. Turning, Mycroft left the table, heading towards the counter to place his order. If he did nothing else, he would get the requested sweets Sherlock had asked for. Then, if he had time later, maybe he would stop by the study group...if for no other reason to check on his younger brother.


	3. Intriguing Beginnings

Greg glared at the tall blond across from him, chest heaving as he struggled with the two men holding him. "Keep talking about Sherlock like that and I'll make sure you won't be doing it for much longer." When Greg had entered the locker room after lunch, he'd been grabbed from behind by two of Sebastian's closest friends and cohorts. He wasn't worried about them, per se. His primary concern was being kicked out of school for something not of his own doing.

"What is it about him that has you and Johnny Boy all up in arms? I mean, _come on_ Lestrade, he's gorgeous yes but he's not worth all of the fighting and arguing we've been doing!"

Glaring at the man pacing in front of him, Greg kept silent. He knew Sebastian didn't really want an answer, he enjoyed hearing himself talk. When Seb stopped in front of him, Greg held the angry blue gaze. He knew what to expect next, it happened every time he or John defended Sherlock.

"Leave him be, Sebby. I think it's precious how they defend him. You wouldn't want anyone to torment _me_, would you?"

Turning his head to his left, Greg frowned as Jim Moriarty walked around the locker behind Sebastian. Looking between the two, Greg vaguely remembered that Jim was around the same age as Sherlock, having only been accepted once Sherlock had accepted entrance. When the two behind him released him, Greg whipped around, eyes narrowed on the others. "Don't think I'll forget this you bastards."

"They will no longer bother you Gregory, I give you my word."

Turning, Greg scowled at Jim. He'd heard the rumors about those who got involved with the younger man. How they eventually ended up indebted to the point of almost losing their inheritance...or worse. "Don't think that I owe you anything for this, if Seb hadn't been such an asshole..."

"Mmm, yes, I am quite aware of his...playful nature. I have been trying to help him understand that not everyone else will appreciate it as well as I do."

Frown deepening, Greg looked closer at Jim. He was almost as young as Sherlock, maybe a year or two younger. "Yeah, well, you two enjoy that idea. I've got practice to get to." Turning, Greg glared at Sebastian before leaving the locker room. He shook his head as he let his thoughts drift to his run in with Mycroft. He'd seen him around campus, the posh looking man held everyone's attention but never asked for it. It had both angered and intrigued Greg to find he was interested in the tall, slim ginger.

Despite his outward appearance, Greg tried his best to stay out of trouble. True, the crowd he hung around was a bit...rowdy, which often times got them in trouble but they always meant well. It hadn't been until he'd started Uni did his life change. His friends respected his wishes about school but they kept as close to him as possible. Which Greg didn't mind, it helped him remember where he started from. He wore a leather jacket and jeans, the signature look of a rebellious teen his age. Seeing Mycroft in a three piece suit made Greg wonder, _why_? Why would anyone choose to wear a suit of all things to school? So he'd started asking questions, trying to find out as much as he could about the other, until he'd met Sherlock.

It hadn't escaped him just how young Sherlock was, far to young to be at Uni, and far to young to know as much as he did. It wasn't until his roommate and friend, John Watson had introduced them, did Greg realize _who_ Sherlock was related to. He'd asked John about Mycroft, having figured out early that Sherlock was very protective of his privacy, which included his older brother. When he'd run into Mycroft at the cafe, he had been alone and Greg had been curious. Now, his curiosity was roaring out of control. His initial assumption about Mycroft had been completely wrong, the three piece suit was a defense. Against what, Greg didn't know but he had every intention of finding out.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, Greg ignored the brooding, angry man now standing on the field next to him. Turning to his left he gave John a crooked grin. "You look worried, what's going on mate?"

John glanced at Sebastian before pulling Greg to the side. "Sherlock said Sebs has been trying to..." Jaw clenching, John let out a rough breath as he looked Greg in the eyes. "He said Sebs has been touching him and not in a good way." Anger coiled low in John's stomach, rage making his voice rough as he tried to control his temper. "He has bruising on his arms Greg, you know how pale Sherlock is. He will mark easily and bruises don't disappear quickly."

Greg glanced behind him, a dark frown curving his lips down. "You know, Sherlock didn't really have to much trouble until Sebastian and his friend, Jim, showed up. Since then, he's been going through some weird situations."

"If he's touched him in any way inappropriate..." John muttered through clenched teeth. He was protective of Sherlock, albeit more than he should be but it felt natural..._right_ to protect him. Shaking his head, John glared at Sebastian. "I'm not to sure what all he's done, Sherlock wouldn't say but it wasn't anything good, Greg."

Greg frowned, turning to look back at Sebastian. The tall blond was also one of the captains of the football team, known for his power and aggressiveness towards others. Sebastian had made a name for himself on and off the field, something that didn't help with his already inflated opinion of himself. "Well, looks like we will need to have a chat with good old Seb before practice is over."

John nodded, face hot with his anger. When he'd met Sherlock after class, the other had been pale and angry. His usually bright gaze was flat and worried and his clothes... "They tried something in class. When I met Sherlock after history, he looked completely disheveled."

Greg's frown turned into a scowl of anger. "He missed physics, I didn't think anything of it seeing as how he and the professor never really get along. Still, he's never just skipped out on classes before." Shaking his head, Greg turned to face the field. "What do you mean he looked disheveled? Like his clothes were messed up or..."

"Just...he just looked like he'd been in a struggle. He was immaculate at lunch but after...I don't know, his shirt was ripped at the shoulder and his pants...his belt had been undone. He was angry, Greg and not his usual holier than thou anger. This was real anger...and fear. What ever happened scared him." John watched as the team spread out across the field. "I don't like him in the same class as Seb and his friends, they can do to much damage to him without us knowing."

Nodding, Greg watched as Sebastian raced across the field, the soccer ball moving between him and his wing man. "There's always been something a little off about him. I'll talk to Sherlock's counselor's, see if we can do something about his history class." Greg could feel John's anger slowly recede. He knew his friend cared for the younger student, had made it known that he'd taken Sherlock under his protection. It wasn't a surprise he'd be angry about anything upsetting Sherlock. "We may need to get his brother involved as well. From what I understand, Mycroft is his legal guardian while their parents are out of the country."

John nodded, eyes moving over the field in concentration. "He's not going to leave Sherlock alone unless something is done. Do you think having him change classes is a good idea?"

Greg nodded, gaze thoughtful as he watched the others racing back and forth in front of him. "Don't know but we will soon find out, I'll go talk to the counselor after practice."

John softly agreed before giving Greg a side ways glance. "So, finally approached the Ice Man I see?" When Greg flushed, John chuckled softly. "The nickname doesn't seem to fit him to well. He was rather pleasant despite the earlier tenseness."

"Yeah, he's not really like Sherlock. Mycroft prefers a more subtle approach to things. He carries an umbrella as a way to warn others away from him. He's not unapproachable, he just doesn't want to be bothered." Greg said softly, thoughts drifting back to the blushing ginger from lunch. He had noticed the way Mycroft paid close attention to Sherlock, his eyes seeming to take in everything about the other. "He worries about Sherlock, despite outward appearances."

"You noticed that as well? He paid close attention to everything Sherlock said or did. Almost as if he were afraid of missing something important." John said thoughtfully. He followed Greg out onto the field, glancing over at Sebastian and his friends. "Mycroft is just as protective of Sherlock as Sherlock is of Mycroft."

"I noticed, the tone Sherlock used wasn't one I've ever heard from him before." Greg chuckled as he thought back to lunch. "Let's get through practice then get ready for group tonight. I have a feeling we are going to have an additional member."

John laughed as he shook his head. "You're so sure he will show up tonight?"

"Of course, we mentioned it in front of him, knowing full well Sherlock has probably never even told him about it." Greg grinned, giving John a playful wink he walked over to his position. "Ok, Johnny boy! Let's get this show on the road!"

Sherlock watched as John and Greg raced across the field, their teammates following their lead. He felt his heart flutter as he watched John, a small smile curving his lips at the short blond. John was a fierce player, very competitive, and determined. All traits that appealed to Sherlock and his sense of self worth. Shaking his head, he chuckled softly as he watched the players on the field. He wasn't aware of anyone standing near him until they spoke.

"Are you enjoying practice, Sherlock?"

Turning, Sherlock lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. Looking up, he frowned at the person standing behind him. "Why are you following me? Is there something you require from me or are you simply doing it to agitate me." Sherlock sighed, watching as Jim moved to the side. He wanted to watch John practice today, his one free day of the week where he wasn't obligated to be anywhere else before study group. "What do you want, Jim."

"I just wanted to see what you were doing today? I've never seen you at any of the practices, why are you here today?"

"I have friends on the team." Sherlock turned back to the field, lips curved down in an angry scowl. "You did not answer my question, what do you want."

"I simply wanted to sit and enjoy practice with you. Maybe we could trade ideas on the players we know."

Glancing over at Jim, Sherlock shook his head. "You're friends with Sebastian so there is no valid reason for me to believe what you're saying. The only reason you could be sitting with me now would be..."

"Sherlock?"

Looking up, Sherlock felt his mouth curve into a small smile of welcome. "Hello John, is practice over already?"

John looked between Jim and Sherlock, frowning at how close they were sitting. "We stopped early, coach has somewhere he needs to be in a few. Are you, uh, if you're busy..."

"No, Jim was waiting on Sebastian but wanted to know what I knew about Lestrade." At the soft breath beside him, Sherlock shook his head. "I will meet you in our usual place?"

John nodded, waiting as Sherlock gathered his things and stood. "Be careful, we won't be but a few minutes." John said softly. He brushed a hand across Sherlock's back as they descended down the bleachers. "Sherlock, I don't think you should be around that group anymore. Especially not after how you looked after history."

Shaking his head, Sherlock stepped off the last step and on to the dirt path in front of him. "It was nothing John, just a small annoyance in a group of even smaller annoyances."

John frowned as he led Sherlock over to the locker room doors. "Yeah well the look on your face said different." When Sherlock started to protest, John sighed. "Look, I know what you're going to say and it's not ok but I won't make a fuss. Just be careful on your way to the dorms. You know, you can always wait here for one of us to go with you."

Sherlock shook his head as he stepped back from John. "I will be fine John do not worry. I will see you at group." Turning, Sherlock left John standing in front of the locker room. Humming softly to himself, he wasn't aware he was being followed. His mind was on the evening recital and whether or not his brother would truly make it.

For most of his life, Mycroft has always made it a point to be at any special event Sherlock told him about. Whether it be his sixth grade spelling bee championship or his ninth grade violin recital. Mycroft never missed any of his events. Tonight, however was important. It was Sherlock's first solo since his brothers accident three years ago.

Letting out a soft breath, Sherlock glanced up at the tall building in front of him. Greg and John both stayed in the dorms, sharing a room on the third floor, they enjoyed the use of the common room for study groups. Pushing the door open, Sherlock waited for his eyes to adjust to the semi dark light. Glancing around the crowded room to his right, Sherlock shook his head and headed towards the stairs. He would wait for John and Greg in their room as usual, his distaste for the rowdy crowd downstairs evident as he headed up.

By the time he reached the third floor, Sherlock had decided to call his brother. He was still worried about Mycroft's reaction to Greg. The fact Mycroft had shown any _type_ of reaction made Sherlock wonder. Was there a chance his brother could care for someone other than Sherlock? Would Greg hurt his brother like the other from his past? Shaking his head, Sherlock glanced at the numbers on the door until he reached John's room. He paused at the partially open door, a frown curving his lips down. Pulling out his phone, Sherlock sent a text to John before glancing down the hallway. He wasn't sure what to do until his phone rang. Glancing down, he sighed at the sight of John's name. "John?"

_"__What do you mean the door is open? Has it been damaged or..."_

"It does not look as if the wood has been broken or the lock either. Do you want me to go inside and..."

John cut Sherlock off with a sharp sound, hand tightening around his phone. "Stay out of the room Sherlock, Greg and I are on our way." Glancing over at Greg, John shook his head. "No, Sherlock I'm serious stay out of the..." Pausing mid step, John frowned as the line went dead. "Sherlock?"

"Everything ok, John?"

Shaking his head, John dialed Sherlock's number. "Not really sure, Sherlock said the door was open but it didn't look as if it had been forced. I told him not to go in but..."

Greg frowned. "Let's go, if Moran and his friends got back before we did..." Greg broke off as John took off at a run. "John, John wait!" Sighing in frustration, Greg followed after his friend. Glancing to his left, he noticed the silent ginger watching him. Pausing, he watched as Mycroft flushed before turning away. Torn between going after John and following Mycroft, Greg watched as Mycroft turned, face a light pink, umbrella and bag held tightly in his hands. "Mycroft?" When the other looked up in surprise, Greg grinned. "What are you doing on this side of campus, thought such a posh fellow like you would have their own place."

Mycroft felt his face heating as Greg walked over to where he stood. He had been on his way to see Sherlock, taking the path past the dorms had been a whim. An emotional response to his curiosity about the man now standing in front of him. "I was on my way to meet Sherlock, his recital is this evening and I wanted to see if he was prepared." Taking a deep breath, he let is out slowly as Greg moved closer. Taking a small step back, Mycroft tried to control the fluttering of his stomach. Greg smelled like outdoors and sweat and something else...something uniquely Greg. It was a simple yet strong combination he never thought would appeal to him. "Is there...Gregory did I say something wrong?"

Greg frowned, glancing back in the direction of the dorms. "Not to sure, come with me. John got a call from Sherlock about our room being broken into. He told him to wait for us but..."

"The call was disconnected before you received a response. That means he has an idea of who did it and why." Mycroft finished softly. He gave Greg a small smile at his huff of amusement. "It is something he has been able to do since we were children, his ability to solve puzzles and crimes. Rather helpful on most occasions but it tends to upset those who are guilty."

"So he's like a walking, talking lie detector that can solve puzzles or crimes." Greg glanced over at Mycroft, watching as his expression turned thoughtful. "How much trouble does it tend to get him in?"

Sighing, Mycroft glanced up at the set of double doors now in front of him. "More than I care to remember, Sherlock means well but he does not always understand that others do not share in his desire for complete honesty." He looked around as Greg opened the door, surprised at how neat the lobby was. "Does he spend a lot of time here?" At Greg's small frown, Mycroft shook his head. "Sherlock, does he spend a great deal of time here?" He wanted to know about Sherlock and his relationship with John. But he was also aware that Greg would notice if he were fishing for information.

"Not really, he only comes here on his free days and that's maybe once a week. He and John usually meet me and a few of the other blokes at the lounge." Greg headed towards the stairwell. He was pretty sure the elevator was out of order still and after the last incident...

"I will not tolerate you meddling in things that are _not_ your business..._brother_."

Looking up at the sharp tone, Greg frowned to see a stone faced Sherlock and red faced John walking towards them. "John, Sherlock, what's the problem here?" Looking from Sherlock to Mycroft, Greg tried to read the two men. He could see the surprise in Mycroft's eyes and the fire in Sherlock's. "Want to tell me what's got you so angry, Sherlock?"

"What is it that you accuse me of, baby brother?" Mycroft could see the anger blazing in Sherlock's eyes. "I was on my way to your recital."

"You are the only one who would break into John's room and do some snooping. What is it you're looking for? What do you want to know about..." Breaking off, Sherlock looked between Greg and Mycroft. "What are you doing with Lestrade? If you were on your way to the recital hall, why..."

"I was on my way back here with John when you called, your brother was headed towards the music hall when I stopped him." Greg frowned as he watched Sherlock search first Mycroft's expression then his. "Seriously Sherlock, Mycroft was not headed towards the dorms when we ran into each other."

Mycroft studied Sherlock's body language before looking over at John. "What is it you found that makes you think it was me? My last class ended twenty minutes ago and it takes..."

"Thirty to get from there to here." Voice soft, Sherlock looked back at John. "Maybe you were right, John."

John glared at Sherlock before turning to Mycroft. "The door hadn't been forced but the room was sacked. Our mattresses were ripped apart and our clothes are everywhere." Sighing, he turned to Greg. "My lucky jersey is missing as are your lucky shorts."

Greg stiffened as he turned to Mycroft. "You're saying that's all that's missing?" He studied the tall, silent ginger. Held the piercing ice gray gaze as Mycroft stood in front of him with a small frown of worry. "You didn't do it but someone did and that is a concern. Who were they after, me, John, or both of us?"

"No, Mycroft would not have stolen anything of value or importance nor would he have the room torn apart." Sherlock said thoughtfully. Pacing from the stairwell to the elevator and back, he ran a distracted hand through his hair. "John's favorite jersey is blue and white and Lestrade's favorite shorts..." Sherlock paused, looking up at Greg, he studied the now flushed face. "He was asking about who I knew at practice today. There is no one who would do something like this unless..." Turning, Sherlock headed back upstairs. "Come John! There is something we have missed!"

John grinned as he looked back at Greg and Mycroft. "Isn't he absolutely fantastic, there is no one else as brilliant as he is." Turning, John followed after Sherlock, shouting at him to wait for them.

Shaking his head, Greg chuckled as he turned back to Mycroft. He frowned at the pale face and worried expression. Wondered why he would look so concerned about John and Sherlock's relationship. "You are aware they spend most of their afternoons together, right?"

"No, I am not always available after classes have ended. I did know of his study group but..." Mycroft broke off as he glanced at Greg. "It is nothing, merely a big brother worrying after his younger brother."

Greg nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah, something you will never get rid of either. Especially not if you have younger siblings." Shaking his head, Greg glanced up the stairs. "Let's go see what they've come up with, if we leave them alone to long Sherlock will go after the guilty party alone."

Nodding, Mycroft followed Greg upstairs. He glanced around the stairwell, frowning at how dim the lighting was. He looked up in surprise as Greg stopped on the third floor landing, he hadn't realized they'd reached their destination while studying the lights. "is it usually so dim inside?"

"It's to help those who have a fear of the dark or vertigo. The light being to bright can throw some off and none at all..."

"Gives one the sense of danger or impending danger." Mycroft finished softly. "Sherlock does not prefer the dark, he has always flourished in light."

Greg studied the silent man walking beside him. Gone was the dark, long coat, in its place was a light gray jacket, waist coat and shirt. "You really mean well by him, don't you?"

Mycroft glanced over at Greg, giving him a shy smile. "We have spent most of our youth with nannies and tutors. The least I can do for him is be as much of a brother as he will allow me." He followed Greg silently, bright gaze looking everywhere but the well built man in front of him. Mycroft tried to ignore the fact that Greg was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. The material was damp, much like his hair, which was dark and curling. The strands made his fingers twitch with a desire to see how they felt. Would they curl around his fingers or...

"Mycroft, are you ok you look a little flushed?"

Blinking in surprise, Mycroft took a deep breath before focusing on the grinning man in front of him. Straightening, he gave Greg a small nod. "Yes, thank you." Turning, he frowned at the sound of his brother's shout. "Sherlock?"

_"__Mycroft?! Come here, there is something I am missing! There has to be..."_

Mycroft followed Greg into the room, frowning at the disaster in front of him. "Who would do such a thing?"

"They are trying to send a message but what I have yet to figure out." Sherlock swept into the room, eyes bright, mouth pursed in thought. "Everything that is missing, however..."

"The window, Sherlock, was it open when you first entered?" Mycroft glanced over at the window, a frown curving his lips down. The papers on the desk were stacked neatly on the desk while everything around it was destroyed.

"No, it was closed, Lestrade closed it before he left for class this morning as per his usual habit. John has not been back since leaving this morning. The papers are still stacked as they had been last night so..." Sherlock stopped in front of Mycroft, eyes wide as he studied his brother. "I need to..."

"No, you have a recital in less than an hour, if you are not there you will simply be upset about it later. We can go after the recital." Mycroft watched as Sherlock's face turned red, lips curved down in an angry pout. "You know I do not wish to deny you your...pleasure. However, you know how hard you practiced for tonight and your friends are sure to be there as well."

Greg watched as Sherlock released a sigh of frustration. He was surprised at how soft Mycroft's tone was, especially considering the look on Sherlock's face. He held his breath as he watched the emotions crossing Sherlock's face. When he let out a soft huff of irritation, Greg shook his head. "Now Sherlock..."

"You promise?" Sherlock held his brother's gaze, searching for any sign of trickery or subterfuge. When Mycroft nodded, Sherlock released a soft breath. "As long as I get to explain it all when the idiots from the Yard arrive."

"Of course, you are the one who figured it out after all." Mycroft watched as Sherlock's expression changed to one of begrudging satisfaction. "Now, if we do not hurry you will be late and you would not wish to keep your audience waiting, would you?" He watched as Sherlock struggled with his decision. He loved the adoration of his listeners but he also loved the attention from the three men in the room. "Sherlock?"

"We will go to the recital then retrieve the stolen items." Nodding, Sherlock looked from Mycroft to Greg and finally John. "You will go with me?" When John nodded, Sherlock let out a pleased sigh of relief. Turning to Mycroft, he frowned. "My violin..."

"Is in the car, Jameson was going to meet us at the music hall so you did not have to worry with carrying it." Following the now anxious brunette, Mycroft glanced at Greg before leaving the room. "I could have him meet us here if you prefer, brother."

Shaking his head, Sherlock left the room and headed back downstairs. "I will be there before he arrives! I must hurry, if I am not there to practice with the others..."

Smiling Mycroft looked back at the two men standing in the hall. "Thank you, forgive us for our hasty departure. Sherlock will return your missing items later this evening." Giving them a small nod, Mycroft turned and followed after his brother. He was aware of the dark gaze that followed him, couldn't resist the urge to glance back before the door closed behind him and paused. Greg was watching but with a look he'd never seen directed at him from anyone before. Usually people looked at Mycroft in a number of different ways. They were either intimidated by the bright eyes and silent expression or they looked at him with begrudging respect. Most looked at Mycroft with angry disdain, usually because much like his brother, he could tell ones past with a glance. The ability to solve puzzles and problems was something that some enjoyed while others found it an annoyance. The look in Greg's eyes, however, was one of interest. A look Mycroft would have never thought directed towards him and not from someone as gorgeous as Greg.

Shaking his head, Mycroft resisted the urge to go back and question the other man. Right now, he needed to focus on catching up to Sherlock and enjoying his recital. Once outside, he paused, searching the area for Sherlock.

"He is interested in you and you in him."

Turning, Mycroft let out a soft sigh of relief, choosing to ignore the soft, curious statement. "Why did you not wait? Come, we must get to the music hall so you can complete a run through." He waited for Sherlock, watching as he struggled with something important. "Sherlock?"

"Are you...it, umm, it would not be like the other, Mycroft. Lestrade is a good sort, much like John. He doesn't really clean but he is a _good_ man. Or he has been to me, especially when Moran and his friends are harassing me or the other underclassmen." Sherlock studied his brother. He could see what Mycroft tried to hide from him, knew that despite his initial silence he was interested in Greg.

Nodding, Mycroft tried to keep up with his brother's ramblings. Long ago, he'd given up trying to make sense of everything Sherlock said and only listen to the important parts. Sometimes, however, the important parts got caught up in Sherlock's chaotic rambles. Much as they did now. "I do not intend to get involved with anyone at this time, baby brother. I have enough on my plate simply trying to keep up with you." At his brother's soft chuckle, Mycroft smiled. He adored his younger brother. Had rejoiced when his parents had told him about the baby's impending arrival and had done everything he could to protect Sherlock since. Running a hand over dark curls, Mycroft felt his smile widen at the pleased look on Sherlock's face. "Tell me more about the piece you are preforming this evening. What is the story behind the music?"

Listening to Sherlock talk about his piece, Mycroft walked with him to the music hall. He was aware of the curious looks from the other's, knew they drew attention no matter where they went. Mycroft was Sherlock's senior by four years, giving him the advantage of age and experience over his brother. This, however, was not why people were curious about them. Despite their height, and air of confidence, it was their looks that made others stop and stare. Both Mycroft and Sherlock were tall, slender, and pale. Where Mycroft had a head full of ginger curls, Sherlock's curls were brunette. Mycroft's eyes were a bright silver or ice gray and could either freeze you in place or make you wonder what will happen next. Sherlock's were a mix of silver, green, and blue, a combination never before seen in a male and rarely with a brunette. Sherlock's gaze had the ability to give one a sense of calm or a sense of danger. Both were intelligent, sharp tongued, and almost untouchable. The only weakness many have seen and most have tried to exploit was the bond between the brothers. Mycroft was overly protective of Sherlock, almost to the point that it bordered on obsession. Sherlock, despite his outwardly scathing disdain for his elder brother, held a deep love for him. He held those in contempt for any wrong done to Mycroft, so much so that he could affect the opinion of those around him. It was not lost on those who knew the siblings that they were complete opposites, still even with their differences...Mycroft loved Sherlock as much as Sherlock loved Mycroft.


	4. A Brother's Concern

_Mycroft watched as Sherlock slowly walked out on stage. He could see how nervous Sherlock was, wanted to go on stage and tell him it would be alright but knew...Mycroft knew if he moved Siggerson would reprimand them both. So he remained seated, watching as Sherlock scanned the crowd. Giving him a small smile and wave, Mycroft glanced over at his parents. Sherlock was an exceptional child, a prodigy that his parents ignored for their own pursuits. _

_Watching as Sherlock took a deep breath, Mycroft waited as he picked up his bow and violin. His beloved Stradivarius, a gift from Mycroft on his fifth birthday, meant everything to Sherlock. It had taken Mycroft almost three months to find the perfect violin for his brother. Especially one that neither of his parents could or would take from Sherlock._

_When the first sounds of the strings filled the air, Mycroft smiled. He remembered how hard Sherlock practiced on his piece. Had stayed up with him on nights when Sherlock felt there was something missing. Now, in front of everyone, Mycroft watched as Sherlock showed the fruits of his labor. The piece was moving, the melody haunting in its intricacy. It touched ones heart, giving them the feeling of euphoria mixed with a fleeting sense of sadness. A hint of remorse for such small pleasures that flowed with the wind._

_When Sherlock finished, the crowd stood, clapping and cheering, Mycroft included. When he glanced over, Mycroft was surprised to find that both his parents had disappeared. When, he couldn't be sure but they had left without saying a word. Shaking his head, Mycroft turned back to the stage, bright gaze colliding with the sad one watching him. It was then, with that one look, Mycroft vowed to never miss anything important for Sherlock again._

Sherlock glanced around the backstage area, a small frown curving his lips down. He'd insisted Mycroft find a seat instead of following him to the back. Now...he wished he'd let his brother come with him. Letting out a soft sigh, Sherlock turned and headed towards the stage. He couldn't stop thinking about what happened to John and Greg's dorm room. Sherlock knew _who_ had done it, the question he could not answer was _why_? Why would they tear apart John and Greg's room, what were they after?

"Are you ready, Sherlock?"

Turning, Sherlock glanced at the petite woman behind him and smiled. "As long as my accompanying pianist is ready, I am ready." He turned to the blond behind him. "It is very good to see you, Emilie. Did you see Mycroft, was he still..."

"Mycroft is sitting front row third seat. You know he will always be where you can see him."

Sherlock nodded, turning back towards the stage. "How are classes, still having trouble with Chemistry?" At the light laugh, Sherlock grinned before turning around. "Do you miss me yet?"

"You know we do, there is no one who can entertain us as much as you and the professor's."

Grinning, Sherlock shook his head as he turned, reaching for the edge of the curtain. "Yes, well, Mycroft felt I was not reaching my full potential." He said softly, eyes searching the crowd, Sherlock released a sigh of relief. Mycroft was exactly where his friend stated. "Do you think he will ever tire of showing up? He always seems to enjoy himself, yet..."

"Has he said he does not wish to be here? You know how he is Sherlock, once Mycroft makes up his mind..."

"It is for ever set." Sherlock finished softly. He gave his brother a small wave, grinning when it was returned. Despite his usual despising air for his brother's high handedness, Sherlock loved Mycroft. So much so that when Greg and John sat down next to him, Sherlock began to worry. The usually stoic face was now a light pink, a first for Sherlock to see in public but not unusual behind closed doors. "If the rumors are to be believed..." Sherlock started softly.

"Ooo, who is that next to big brother? He looks absolutely dangerous, doesn't he?"

Sherlock glanced over at Emilie, aware of her taste in bad boys. "He is a friend, do not interfere Emilie, Mycroft is aware..." Sherlock paused at the angry glare he was given. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock shook his head. "You and I have known each other since childhood, Mycroft, however is my brother. I will not allow anyone to upset him for any reason. Your interest in Lestrade would upset him, so please, do not interfere." Turning back, Sherlock watched as both John and Greg engaged Mycroft in conversation. He felt a small smile curl his lips at his brother's expression. The smile that curved Mycroft's lips was shy but easy, one that was usually reserved for those closest to him. "Do you think he will hurt Mycroft?"

Emilie placed a hand at the small of Sherlock's back. "Do you believe he would do so? You know him or you would not allow him within ten feet of Mycroft. He does not appear to wish him harm. Look at him Sherlock, past your protectiveness for Mycroft. Tell me, what do you see when you look at the man next to big brother?"

Sherlock studied Greg, forcing back his worry concerning Mycroft, he looked closer at Greg. Despite the black leather jacket, Greg worked hard to maintain his grades. He was a captain of the football team, and he enjoyed hanging out with his friends. Greg paid close attention to details and tried his best to mediate any situation. "He is athletic, a hard worker, and loves his family. Rather protective of those he considers friend or family and will not tolerate any level of disrespect." Letting out a soft breath, Sherlock shook his head. "Mycroft would be able to laugh more around Lestrade. The easy manner he has attracts others to him. His desire to help those in need will help him when he chooses a career in law enforcement."

"Now how do you know all of that? He looks like he's a bad boy through and through."

"Looks, as we both now, can and are deceiving." Sherlock let his gaze drift over to John. The small blond looked unassuming, a laid back young man with an easy going smile. Until crossed, then John became almost feral, his entire demeanor making the other think before reacting.

"And who is the one that you keep watching so closely, hmm?"

"Lestrade's roommate." Sherlock stepped back and turned away from the curtain. He did not want to answer the questions he knew were about to be asked. When Emilie remained silent, Sherlock glanced over at her and frowned. "Em?"

"As long as you and big brother are happy and safe that is all that matters."

Sherlock nodded, turning towards the stairs he let out a soft breath. Despite his worry about Mycroft, his privacy was just as important. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock turned. "That does not mean..."

"I am well aware of what it means Sherlock. Do not worry, I will not interfere unless needed."

Turning, Sherlock gave Emilie a small grin. He pushed back his concern and let his mind drift to his solo. He had been practicing with Emilie for almost a month. Sherlock loved his violin, it offered him a chance to think or escape. To let the music flow as his emotions slowly found its way across the strings. Sherlock loved playing in front of a crowd as well. It gave him the attention and adoration he craved. Mycroft gave him the same but Sherlock expected it, from strangers it was either offered or not and Sherlock wanted what was offered. "Come, we are after the next group and I do not wish for there to be any mistakes."

"Does he know it is for him?"

Sherlock shook his head, sighing s they stopped n front of an empty room. "Mycroft often wonders where the music comes from. He has yet to realize he is the inspiration behind most of the pieces." When Emilie nodded, Sherlock turned and entered the room. Tonight was one of the most important nights of his life. Tonight, Sherlock would be given the greatest gift he would ever receive in his entire life...the gift of love.


	5. For the Love of My Brother

Mycroft watched as Sherlock enchanted the crowd with his solo. Heard the soft whispers of awe and praise and felt his chest swell with pride. Here was the fruits of Sherlock's hard work, the proof of his busy days and sleepless nights. He heard Greg ask John about the piece, how long had Sherlock been practicing and who was it for. As a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, Mycroft watched as Sherlock moved with the melody. The piece was one that poured out of his brothers soul. One that told of the pain and heartache they both suffered growing up and the triumph for having overcome the odds.

"Is this for you Mycroft?"

Turning, Mycroft flushed to find Greg watching him in the dark. Nodding his head, he gave the other a quick grin. "Sherlock wanted something with feeling, this piece describes every memory important to him."

Greg nodded, turning back to the stage he watched Sherlock. "Who is the blond at the piano, is she dating Sherlock or..."

"No, Emilie is the third eldest child of the St, Cyr family. She and Sherlock have known each other since childhood." Frowning, Mycroft wondered if Greg were interested in Emilie or not. "She was a classmate until Sherlock's acceptance into University."

"She is beautiful, the way she plays is almost a perfect balance for Sherlock's playing."

"Yes, most would not see her in that light but, that is true." Glancing over at John, Mycroft was surprised at the expression on the blonds face. "Do you get to hear him often, Mr. Watson?"

John chuckled softly, eyes still on the brunette on stage. "No, not as much as I would like and never something as wonderful as this." Voice soft, John let his gaze move over Sherlock, taking in the relaxed shoulders and loose stance. "He loves his violin, talks about it quite often."

Mycroft nodded, a smile curving his lips. "He has played since he was five, such a wonderful talent for one so smart." Mycroft watched as Sherlock entered the final strains of his piece. It was a part he'd not heard, not this particular melody. Then it hit him...his accident. Sherlock had taken his accident the hardest, thinking he'd lost his older brother at the hands of a selfish, sadistic lord. He listened to his brothers pain, the fear, and heartbreak had been real for them both. More so for Sherlock because of his dependency on Mycroft's presence in his life. He hadn't been aware of how deeply affected his brother had been until the last notes had faded and the crowd was standing on their feet.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Mycroft stood, clapping with everyone else. Watching the smile that curved Sherlock's lips, Mycroft let out a soft breath. People will be talking about Sherlock's performance for a while. Long enough for him to go about his next greatest passion...solving crimes with New Scotland Yard. "Perfect." Voice soft, Mycroft was not aware of being watched, his focus was on Sherlock and the wide smile curving his lips. "He was..."

"Absolutely magnificent. There is no other way to describe it, I have never heard anything so fantastic as what Sherlock just played." John grinned, glancing at both Mycroft and Greg. "I'm going to go congratulate him, he deserves to know just how wonderful his performance was."

Chuckling, Greg looked around them. "He knows mate, from everyone here, he knows."

"It is the opinions of those who he is closest to that matter the most. Mr. Watson is correct in his desire to congratulate Sherlock. Sherlock will enjoy it most from him." Mycroft gave John and Greg a small smile before turning back to the stage. He was met by a piercing gaze filled with worry, the colors swirling in chaos until he gave a small head nod and quick grin. "Absolutely perfect." Mycroft whispered, watching as a flush bloomed across his brothers cheeks and his smile widened in pleasure. He realized Sherlock had been more worried about _Mycroft's_ reaction to the piece than anyone else's. "He will enjoy it more if he is allowed to go back and find the person who destroyed your room." Glancing over at the two grinning men, Mycroft shook his head. He tried to push back the thrill of excitement that ran through him at Greg's look. "Mr. Lestr...I-I mean, Gregory?"

Greg grinned, a slow curve of his lips as he watched Mycroft. "You're more than the typical big brother, aren't you? This piece meant something to _both_ of you, didn't it?" Greg saw the look of pride on Mycroft's face, knew that the ending had taken him by surprise but he was still proud of his younger brother. "Sherlock puts everything he has in to whatever he sets his mind to. If I'm not mistaken, this was from the heart of you both?"

Sucking in a quick breath, Mycroft looked from Greg to John then back. "Sherlock is very passionate about his music, something he's always been exceptional at. When he stopped playing it was..." Mycroft broke off as he struggled to find the right words. "It was disturbing for both of us. This is his first solo after not hearing anything for a while. You would be correct when saying it is from the heart of us both."

John frowned, aware of the change in mood between the flushed ginger and his silent friend. "Amazing." He whispered. Giving Greg a pat on the back, he turned and headed down the aisle towards the stage. John wanted Sherlock's attention away from the group now surrounding him. When he was standing on the outside of the circle, he waited, breath held until verdigris eyes looked up at him with a smile. Waving, John watched as Sherlock walked away from the young lady talking to him. A nervous giggle escaped him when Sherlock was finally standing in front of him. "That was absolutely amazing, Sherlock. I've never heard anything so wonderful in my life."

Sherlock flushed in pleasure as John grinned back at him. "Thank you, John. It helped that I had such a wonderful pianist as well." Sherlock glanced back at Emilie before turning back to John. "Did you truly enjoy it, John?"

John felt his heart flutter as he looked up at the taller youth. "It was breathtakingly beautiful, I loved every note." John watched as Sherlock slowly moved closer, his smile softer than before. "Maybe later, when, uh, when you are free..."

"I am free now, John. Come, I need to see Mycrft before we leave." Turning, Sherlock waved at Emilie before he and John made their way back to Mycroft and Greg. Frowning, Sherlock studied his brother, noticing again the flushed face and shy smile. He was curious about how relaxed Mycroft had become around Greg, until a small hand pressed against his back. Turning, Sherlock smiled down at the blond next to him. "Yes, John?"

"Is everything alright, you're frowning?" John studied the concerned expression, wondering at the dark look. "

"Yes, John." Shaking his head, Sherlock sighed. He did not wish to ruin the evening with unfounded worries. Giving John a small grin, Sherlock turned and headed up the aisle. "Mycroft?" He watched as his brother stood, smile wide, eyes shining with pride. "It was..."

"It was perfect." Mycroft grinned at his beaming brother, pride making his chest swell. "It was everything I was expecting and more. You truly out did yourself, Sherlock, this was one performance I shall never forget." Mycroft felt his heart constrict as he watched Sherlock's expression brighten. "You have done what you set out to do, little brother, you have changed the way others listen to music."

Sherlock laughed, a deep rumble of pleasure as he hugged Mycroft. "It was truly wonderful, Mycroft! To be back on the stage and to feel the music as it flowed through me! The notes seemed to drift in harmony as my bow moved across the strings." Sherlock let his eyes drift close as he played an air violin, a small smile of pleasure curving his lips. "It was magnificent."

"And yet you still can't seem to keep up with this."

Eyes snapping open in surprise, Sherlock looked down to find his Stradivarius sitting in front of him. Turning, he sighed in relief to find Emilie standing behind him. "Thank you, I was not trying..."

"You are welcome, little brother. Take care of her and big brother, I will see you both soon."

Nodding, Sherlock opened his violin case and smiled. "It was..."

"Magnificent."

Looking up, Sherlock gave John a wide grin. Closing the case, Sherlock slowly stood, holding the wide blue gaze in front of him. "Come John, we still have to find the ones who destroyed your room."

Nodding, John felt his grin widen as Sherlock winked at him before turning and heading towards the exit. Glancing at Greg and Mycroft, he waved. "Well gentlemen, looks as if I have a date, so if you will excuse me..." John chuckled as he followed after Sherlock, running to catch up with the rapidly moving brunette.

"He's going to give John a run for his money." Greg chuckled before turning back to Mycroft. He frowned at the look of worry that appeared on the others face. "Mycroft, you alright?"

Blinking in surprise, Mycroft looked at Greg, thoughts going over John's statement. "I am well Gregory, thank you." He resisted the urge to follow after his brother, thoughts drifting back to his past. "I do not wish for Sherlock to get into any trouble on such a successful evening." He forced his voice to remain even, hoping Greg didn't pick up on his worry. Shaking his head, Mycroft gave Greg a small smile before turning to follow after John and Sherlock. "Do you not have plans as well, Gregory?"

"No immediate plans, why, offering to keep me company for the night?" Greg grinned as Mycroft missed a step, watching as his hands tightened around his bag. "I haven't eaten dinner and I'm pretty sure you haven't either. Care to join me for something light?"

Mycroft stopped at the doorway and turned. Taking a deep breath, he started to refuse Greg, until dark, laughing eyes met his. The man standing in front of him had been nothing if not a gentleman and he was friends with Sherlock. What's the worst that could happen from them enjoying dinner? "Do you like Italian, Gregory?"

"If it looks and smells as good as you, I'm sure I'll like it just fine." Greg winked at the surprised look Mycroft gave him. "Come on, I know of a nice little place not to far from campus. We can get something light and enjoy a coffee and dessert."

Mycroft felt his heart flutter at the thought of something so simple. Giving Greg a small, shy nod, he followed the other out of the auditorium and to the right. Glancing back behind him, Mycroft looked in the direction of the dorms. "Gregory, are you certain Sherlock..."

"He's with John so he'll be fine. If anything happens they will call us, I sent John a text letting him know where I would be. Now, relax and just enjoy the evening, ok?" Greg reached back and gripped Mycroft's hand. He felt the surprise from the other, couldn't ignore the slight tightening of slim, pale fingers. "You play the piano and quite well if Sherlock is to go by."

Letting out a soft breath of surprise, Mycroft looked at their hands. "Since I was three, mother felt I needed to learn early." Voice soft, he let Greg lead him away from campus and down the street. "Gregory..."

"God, if you keep saying my name like that..." Greg stopped and looked at the taller man. "Don't think Myc, just go with the flow. Feel how the night goes, if it's good we can go from there, if not, hey..." Greg shrugged, a crooked grin curving his lips. "Just means I'll have to try harder next time around."

Mycroft felt his face heating as Greg turned and continued down the street. He followed the other, hand tingling from clutching Greg. Glancing once again at their hands, Mycroft let out a soft breath and decided to take Greg's advice. If going with the flow meant he could spend more time with the dark stranger then he would gladly do so. Especially if it meant he could feel the strong fingers tangled with his. Hear the low, smoky voice as Greg said his name, and bask in the warmth of the others smile as he teased or encouraged Mycroft to talk. It was dinner, again, what's the worst that could happen?


	6. Unwanted Distractions

"_What have you done?! Why is he not moving?!"_

_"__He simply wouldn't listen! I told him what I wanted, how my wish was to join our houses. When I tried to kiss him..."_

_"__Liar, you tried to force yourself on Mycroft! When he refused, you hurt him and are now trying to cover it up!"_

_"__You nosy little brat! If he hadn't refused none of this would have happened!"_

_"__No one cares about that, the immediate concern right now is Mycroft?! Mycroft wake up?! Can you hear me, I need you to open your eyes, give me a sign that you hear me?! William go find your father, hurry before we lose your brother!"_

Sherlock stared at the book in front of him, the words blurring as the memories replayed in his mind. The recital had been a week ago. Sherlock, riding the high of his success, had enjoyed the attention and adoration from everyone around him. Until someone from the past had shown up as a guest speaker for one of his classes. The man was much older but he still had the same predatory look as before. Once he'd recognized Sherlock, he'd tried his best to embarrass him. Thankfully, there were those in class who had felt differently about the small attacks against Sherlock.

Shaking his head, Sherlock refocused his attention back on the pages in front of him. He had a chemistry final in a few hours and wanted to make sure he was well prepared. After about an hour of studying, Sherlock became aware of someone sitting silently across from him. Looking up he was surprised to find a smiling John Watson watching him. "John?" Sherlock could feel his face heating as John continued to stare at him, making his stomach flutter in nervous anticipation. "Forgive me, I was not..."

"It's fine, Sherlock. I had some studying to do as well and I didn't wish to disturb you." John kept his voice low, aware that they were sitting in the far back of the library. "What, uh, what are you studying? You were pretty focused when I first sat down." Reaching forward, John slowly turned the open book towards him. Glancing down, John frowned. "You're smarter than the professor, Sherlock, why do you need to study for chemistry?" John noticed the way Sherlock avoided his gaze, his fingers drumming against the table in agitation. "Sherlock, what's going on?"

Sighing, Sherlock tried to decide whether telling John what happened would do more harm than good. Looking up at the worried man across from him, he shook his head. "I've not been focused on class lately and I fell behind a few lessons. I merely wished to refresh my memory on what was discussed."

John studied Sherlock closely, taking in the small frown and tightness around his eyes. "You're lying, either the professor did or said something offensive or he allowed the other students to do so." When Sherlock's gaze remained fixed on the table, John knew what the answer was. "I will take care of it, don't worry, yeah? Right now, how about you tell me about your plans for the holidays. Are you and Mycroft going home?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock was aware of John's attempt to change the subject. Welcomed it more than the thoughts swirling through his head. "No, Siggerson and mummy are out of the country for the holidays." Forcing his voice to remain nonchalant, Sherlock glanced up at John. "They prefer to...travel when it comes to celebrating."

John shook his head. "That won't do mate, how about you two come spend it with Greg and myself? I was going home but me mum and da had to leave. Seems my grandmother broke her hip, so they're going to take care of her. Greg was going home but his last final won't be until late so his family is going to meet him in London. Come on Sherlock, what else do you and Mycroft have going on?"

Sherlock studied the earnest expression, watched as a smile curved John's lips and wondered the same thing. "I would...if Mycroft does not object..."

"Object to what or whom?"

Looking up, Sherlock started in surprise to find Greg standing beside the table. "John was asking about the holidays and what plans I had with Mycroft."

"Oi, I was going to ask the same thing! John here is going to stay with me and my family for a few days. You and Mycroft should come by for Christmas dinner. My mum would love the extra company and you two would get to eat and relax."

Sherlock looked between the two men, thoughts whirling through his head. If he agreed to the offer, there was no guarantee Mycroft would be pleased but if he did not... "Would I be able to speak with Mycroft first? I do not know..."

"Well, well, well if it isn't the professor's favorite dumping post! How are you doing today, Mr. Know-it-all, feel better after getting not only yourself but five others detention?!"

Turning, Sherlock scowled at the laughing face of Sebastian Moran, forcing himself to remain calm and aloof. "Compared to the extra homework he assigned you and your friends, I would say I got off lucky." At the look of anger that crossed the others face, Sherlock turned back to John and Greg. At their questioning looks, Sherlock sighed. "A few of the other students disapproved of how the professor was...singling me out and spoke up on my behalf."

John stood up, angry gaze on Sebastian as he rounded the table. "Leave, now and we will act as if you did _not_ have a hand in what happened to Sherlock." When Sebastian hesitated, John's gaze hardened. "Leave, Sebastian, do not make me say it again."

"You won't always be around to protect him, Johnny boy."

"Well if there is ever a time he is unable to do so there will be someone else to take his place."

Sherlock turned to find Mycroft standing behind Sebastian, a frown of displeasure curving his lips down. "Mycroft..."

"Is there something you require of Sherlock, Mr. Moran?" Mycroft gave the angry blond in front of him a hard look. Glancing at the three men behind Sebastian, he frowned at the look on Sherlock's face. Eyes narrowed in anger, Mycroft took a step towards his brothers taunter. "Well, Moran, is there anything you have to say for yourself?"

"I am certain dear Sebs did not mean any harm. Can you or your brother see your way to forgiving him?"

Before either Sherlock or Mycroft could answer, John spoke up first. "No, Sebs has been a pain in the ass since Sherlock got here. Now you're asking both he and his brother to let it all go? Give us a reason why we should be so kind and Sebs was not." John glared at the brunette standing to his right. "You're Jim, aren't you? You were at practice the other day talking to Sherlock, yeah?"

Sherlock watched as Jim's face lit up in pleasure. He could see the idea of John remembering him made Jim happy. Looking at the small group now surrounding them, Sherlock stood up. Gathering his books, he frowned in frustration. "I do not care one way or another if he apologizes or not. The professor was out of line and the fact that Sebastian helped continue with the harassment is more than enough reason for me not to accept anything he has to say at face value." Turning, he glanced at Greg before turning to Mycroft. "There is no cause for worry, we will discuss it after my final." At the small nod, Sherlock turned towards John and smiled. "Join us for lunch?"

John flushed in pleasure, a grin curving his lips as he nodded. "That includes Greg, yeah? We had plans to study for a final as well." At Sherlock's nod, John turned to the silent man. "Change of plans alright with you?"

"Sure, I don't mind. I always enjoy good food and good company." Greg studied the four men around him. He was trying to figure out Jim and Sebastian's interest in Sherlock. Why did they always seem to be around after something happened? And usually after a class Sherlock had with Sebastian. Turning to Mycroft, he didn't miss the look of concern in his eyes. "Let's go to the pub, I'm sure Charlie won't mind seeing us a little early."

John nodded, grabbing his pack and the rest of Sherlock's books, he grinned at the look of surprise. "You two will like Charlie, he makes the best burgers and fries in London." Turning, John motioned to Greg and Mycroft before grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him behind him. "Let's go, a change of scenery is in order!"

Mycroft watched as Sherlock and John disappeared around a bookshelf and down the aisle. Turning to Greg, he gave him a small smile before the other walked towards him. "Gregory?"

"Anything pressing or are you free to join us?" Greg smiled at the light flush on Mycroft's face. Over the past few weeks, Greg had gotten to know the tall, pale ginger. They talked mostly through text but after having sat down and gone over the situation with Sherlock, Greg had a better understanding about what drove the other. "We can always find out what happened while we eat." At the small nod, Greg grinned. "Well come on then, if we let them order without us there's no telling what we'll have to eat." At Mycroft's shy smile, Greg chuckled softly. "Besides John is right, a change of scenery is in order."

Mycroft glanced over at where Jim and Sebastian had been standing. He was aware of Jim's intense desire to know everything about his younger brother. Had heard the rumors of the questions being asked and who was asking them. Shaking his head, Mycroft turned to Greg. "I do agree, a change of scenery is in order."


	7. Lord Abraham James, Marquess of Sussex

Mycroft stared at his reflection, taking in the pale face and over bright eyes. He had been struggling with keeping his thoughts and emotions under control. Especially after his lunch with Sherlock, John, and Greg last week. He hadn't known that his ex had been a guest teacher at the University, nor had he known that he was one of Sherlock's professor's. Not until he'd gone with Greg to speak to him about what happened during class.

_"__Well now, it is good to see you again, Mycroft. Have you missed me? I've missed you, did you know William is one of my students? Imagine my surprise to find the baby brother of my ex betrothed in my class!"_

Stomach fluttering in nervous fear, Mycroft had straightened at the look of surprise from Greg. Ignoring the questions, he'd asked about what happened concerning his brother. Had known he would be lied to, and had promptly left as quickly as possible. Shaking his head, Mycroft let out a soft breath. He was supposed to meet Sherlock for their weekly lunch in an hour but didn't want to leave the flat. The fear of running into his ex...

Mycroft jumped, thoughts breaking off, as a knock sounded at the door. Turning, he glanced down the hallway before slowly walking out of the bathroom. He was pretty sure it wasn't John or Greg, both had class this hour, as did Sherlock. "Who could that be?" Nerves lighting in warning, Mycroft slowly made his way to the living room door. When the knocks sounded again, this time more urgently, he was certain it was someone he didn't want to see. "It can not be him, the University..."

_"__Mycroft are you here? I wish to see you my dear, sweet boy."_

Letting out a soft breath of worry, Mycroft looked around the living room. His cell was in the bedroom on the bed, if he took the time to go back and get it...

_"__Come now my sweet boy, let me in so we can talk, yes? I wish to apologize for my behavior all those years ago. I truly do miss you precious one, more than you can realize."_

Shivering in fear, Mycroft backed up towards his bedroom. He knew there was no way he could be harmed...not here..not where he was supposed to be safe. There was no way...

Letting out a soft gasp of surprise, Mycroft jumped as the knocks became harder, more insistent. Glancing behind him, he started as his phone rang. He let out a soft breath of relief as he recognized the ringtone. "Gregory." He said softly, a frown of worry curving his lips down. Opening his bedroom door, Mycroft picked up the phone and answered in a breathless rush. "Gregory, I-I need your assistance if, umm, if you are not to busy."

_"__Myc what's wrong, you sound scared?" _

Taking a deep breath, Mycroft glanced down the hallway towards the living room. "My ex...he, I-I do not know how he found me but please..." He broke off with a sound of surprise as the door slammed open and his ex walked inside. "Gregory, please..."

_"__Find a safe place to hide, I'm on my way. If he is in the flat don't do anything to attract attention to yourself. Make sure you hide some place safe and where he will not think to look for you. I'll call John and have him keep an eye on Sherlock. For now turn your phone on vibrate and wait for me to call you back. Don't worry I'll be there in a few."_

"Please, make sure Sherlock does not come back to the flat, he will be harmed if seen." Mycroft whispered as he glanced around the edge of his bedroom door. He watched as the graying man in the living room looked around. He didn't want to involve Greg but he had discovered that he enjoyed having the other around. The protective nature Greg displayed when ever Mycroft was having a bad day appealed to him. The others immediate desire to protect him never failed to make his heart race and stomach flutter. "You will make sure John will keep Sherlock occupied?"

_"__Don't worry about it, right now get somewhere safe, I'll be there in a few."_

After disconnecting the call, Mycroft slowly left his room and moved down the hall towards Sherlock's empty room. He kept his gaze on the man in the living room, listening to the soft mutters of dissatisfaction or soft whispers of pleasure. Once at his brother's room, Mycroft eased the door open, grateful it made no sound. Once inside, he closed the door and let out a soft breath. Glancing around, he headed towards the closet, hesitating as he reached for the knob. Stepping back, Mycroft glanced over at the door leading to Sherlock's balcony. Would he be safer there instead of the closet? There was no way his ex would be able to check the bedrooms before Greg's arrival, was there?

_"__Mycroft, I know you are here, I heard your phone. Tell me where you are sweet, I only wish to speak with you. Did you get a chance to speak with William? He was not in class today, I wonder where he could have been?"_

Pausing, Mycroft glanced back at the door. Where could Sherlock have gone if he hadn't gone to class? Unlocking his phone, Mycroft sent a text to Greg asking about Sherlock's where abouts. Turning towards the window, Mycroft decided the balcony would be better than the closet. He would wait there to hear from Greg.

Running across campus, Greg dialed John's number and waited for him to pick up. He didn't like the way Mycroft had sounded, the usually confident tone had been full of fear and something else. Something Greg couldn't put his finger on, something he was sure he never wanted to hear again..

_"__Hi Greg, everything alright?"_

"Not really sure mate, I called Mycroft for lunch and he sounded..."

_"__Lestrade, has something happened to my brother?"_

Greg paused in surprise to hear Sherlock's voice. "I don't know right off, Sherlock. He said something about his ex, who he just found out is your professor? But he sounded as if he were scared, so I'm headed to the flat now. You and John need to stay away until you hear from one of us." Greg rounded the corner of the student building and paused. Across the street were where the student flats had been rebuilt. It was an old gated apartment community that offered security as well as privacy for those who could afford it. And Mycroft and Sherlock could definitely afford it. "I'm going up to check on things now, make sure you keep your asses out of trouble until then."

_"__I will not sit on the side while Mycroft is in danger. You do not know this man Lestrade. His family is powerful and after he tried to...h-he hurt Mycroft and swore vengeance after the betrothal was broken."_

"Well, give me a crash course in whom I'm dealing with then. I can see a car with royal flags out front, as well as a secondary set with the seal for the House of Lords?" Greg frowned as he eased past the security gate. "How did he get the pass code for the gate?"

_"__Mycroft would never leave it unlocked nor give the number out to just anyone."_

Greg frowned as he opened the foyer door. "There isn't anyone at the desk either. Just how dangerous is this professor of yours, Sherlock?" Looking around the empty space, Greg headed towards the stairs. "Does he have the power to clear an entire apartment building?"

_"__His family has been close to the Royal Family for centuries. Siggerson felt it would have been an advantageous match despite his abuse of Mycroft. Neither Mycroft or myself believed the same. After...after, the accident, Siggerson wished to continue the betrothal, Mycroft refused and returned to University. He was supposed to have been resting but said he was better off here."_

"Yeah, well, I don't rightly agree now. Look, either way, you and John stay clear of the flat until you hear from one of us." Greg heard the angry sound from Sherlock, listened as John tried to keep him calm. "Sherlock, your brother has enough to worry about without worrying if you're going to be harmed by this man. So do us a favor and just stay with John, yeah?" At the grudging acquiescence Greg sighed. He was pretty sure Sherlock and John were headed to the flat now so he knew he needed to find Mycroft and fast. "Listen, if you come here stay outside, if not for me then for your brother. He was scared Sherlock and not just for himself."

_"__Don't worry Greg, I'll keep Sherlock out of trouble. Let us know what you find, yeah? You know Sherlock will only wait so long."_

Greg chuckled as he climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. "I know, I'm headed up to the flat now. I'll let you know what I find." Greg disconnected the call as he opened the door leading out to the hallway. He dialed Mycroft's number and waited for him to pick up.

Looking to his right then left, Greg slowly walked out of the stairwell, nerves tingling in warning. He started in surprise when Mycroft's voice sounded in his ear. "Myc?"

_"__Gregory, he is in the flat, he was...he was in the living room but is now in my room."_

Greg felt his stomach churn in rage as he quietly made his way down the hall. Keeping his voice low, Greg glanced behind him before stopping in front of the flat door. "I'm outside in the hall, Sherlock and John may show up in a few minutes so we need to get him out of here and away from you, immediately. Where are you now?"

_"__I am on Sherlock's balcony. How do we get him to leave without..."_

"You leave that to me. Once he's back in the front you get back inside and stay put until I come get you or call, understand?"

_"__Yes, Gregory...thank you."_

Greg grinned at the soft voice, his heart giving an extra beat at the easy acceptance. "I'm going to knock then let myself in, again, remain where you are until you hear from me." Disconnecting the call, Greg took a deep breath before lifting his hand and knocking as hard and as loud as possible. He listened for any sounds of movement before unlocking the door, turning the knob, and pushing it open. "Hello, is anybody home?!" Looking around the living room, Greg closed the door before turning at the sound of a voice.

"And whom might you be looking for?"

Greg looked at the tall, graying man in front of him. "Professor, I'm sorry I was looking for Mycroft and Sherlock? I, uh, I wasn't aware you knew them outside of classes?"

"Yes, well, I am intimately acquainted with the family. You came to see me with Mycroft the other day concerning William, or do you call him...Sherlock? Interesting he would prefer to go by his middle name than his first."

Greg frowned at the mumbling man, slowly walking to his right. He had to get him out of the apartment and outside before Sherlock and John arrived. "Not to sure but since they're not here we may as well go. I'll phone them once I get out of class." He didn't miss the hard, angry glare leveled on him. Straightening to his full height, Greg held the cold, angry blue gaze. He refused to be cowed by this man who both Mycroft and Sherlock feared. "Is there a problem, _Professor_?"

"My name, is Lord Abraham James, Marquess of Sussex. Who are _you_ to suggest that we leave together?"

Greg felt his temper spark at the condescending tone. Eyes narrowing in warning, he stepped forward. "One, you are a _Professor_ here at the University, it is unethical for you to be here alone. Two, if you are who you say then it would be against the law to be caught breaking and entering." Lifting his hand, Greg let Mycroft's spare key dangle from his fingers. "I, however, have been given the means without issue." Greg grinned, his smile predatory as he followed Abraham. "Now, shall we be leaving or..." Greg let the sentence drift off, watching as the other man let out an angry huff.

"It would seem I will simply have to wait until a more appropriate time. If you will excuse me, I see who has been given permission to be here."

Greg watched as Abraham picked up his coat and turned to the door. "Is there a message you would like to leave?" When Abraham ignored him and left the flat, Greg let out an angry sound of displeasure. "Most unpleasing bloke I've ever met." Heading over to the door, Greg locked it then turned towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Pulling out his phone he sent a text to John then dialed Mycroft's number.

"He's gone now, come back in Myc, I'm waiting in the living room." Greg listened to Mycroft's answer before hanging up and waiting in silence. He looked around the open setting, a smile curving his lips at the décor. "We both know it was your doing, the flat looking like this. Sherlock couldn't be bothered to take the time for something so mundane." He turned to the wide eyed, flushed man behind him. Studying Mycroft silently, Greg frowned. "He really scares you, what did he do, Myc? How do I make sure he doesn't harm either of you again?"

Mycroft held the dark gaze, trying to catch his breath as he forced himself to calm down. He wanted to tell Greg what happened, to unburden himself of the fears that plagued him at night. "H-he is not as good of a man as he would have others believe." Clearing his throat, Mycroft was surprised at how husky his voice was. Shaking his head, he turned and walked over to the kitchen. "His family is close to the Queen. Having ties that Siggerson covets he thought a match between the families was an excellent idea. Until Sherlock and I found out just how Abraham truly is."

"Did he hurt you or Sherlock?" Greg watched as Mycroft poured two drinks, surprised to find him drinking so early in the day. "If he has hurt either of you I need to know Myc. John and I can't do anything if..." Greg broke off as the sound of Sherlock shouting interrupted him. "Your brother is here."

"Mycroft?!"

Mycroft looked up at the sound of Sherlock's worried voice. "I am alright, Sherlock, Gregory had Abraham leave."

Sherlock looked around the flat, a frown curving his lips down. "He did not..."

"No, do not worry over such a thing. Gregory made sure he left before he could do anything." Mycroft took a sip from the tumbler in front of him. He let the burn of the alcohol wash through him, forcing himself to push back his initial fear in front of his brother. "In class today..."

"He was not there, if I had known he would be here I would have had John meet me here." Sherlock moved around the living room, examining everything he could. "He went through our photos and..." Sherlock paused as he stopped in front of one of the frames. "He took one of the family photo's." Frowning, Sherlock studied the empty frame. "It was my acceptance photo, the one with..."

"You and I." Mycroft finished his drink then poured another. "It would seem that he has been released back into society. I am surprised we were not informed." Voice soft, Mycroft took a deep breath before he tossed back his second drink. He could feel the dark, questioning gaze on him, knew there were a number of questions that needed to be answered. Looking up, Mycroft felt his stomach clench as he held Greg's gaze. "What is it you wish to know?"

Greg studied both Mycroft and Sherlock. As much as they seemed different, they were very much alike. "We can talk about it later. How about we order something, yeah? If we're going to be drinking, we might as well enjoy a good meal too."

"Sounds like a good idea. We, uh, we didn't have any plans so relaxing in will be fun." John looked between the two brothers, curious about the matching expressions on their faces. Letting out a soft breath, he reached for Sherlock, giving him a small smile. "Are you alright, you two look as if you've seen the devil." John looked up at the wide eyed, pale face, his heart giving an extra beat at Sherlock's fragile expression. "Sherlock, what is it?"

"Abraham tried to have Sherlock committed after he tried to..." Mycroft looked up at his brother's pale face. "He attempted to kidnap me and force me to marry him. He drugged us both, I woke up in his chateau in France and Sherlock..."

"I woke up in an asylum for the mentally insane." Voice soft Sherlock held his brothers gaze. The fear and abandonment he'd felt threatened to wash over him again, drowning him in the intensity of his past fears and emotions. Sherlock slowly sat down. "He hurt Mycroft and no one would believe me. I tried to tell our parents but Siggerson..."

"Abraham convinced Siggerson that Sherlock was jealous." Mycroft cut his brother off, watching as his lips trembled and eyes filled with tears. "Sherlock was fifteen at the time, Abraham..." Mycroft broke off as the memories rushed back. "Abraham preferred younger...men and when I refused he turned his attentions to my brother." Sucking in a harsh breath, Mycroft picked up his drink. "Siggerson did not object and despite my warnings, he pushed for it until..." Hands shaking Mycroft set his glass down, staring into the amber liquid. "Until he attacked Sherlock after his release. I would accept anything I had to in order to protect my brother. Had given up everything to keep Abraham away from Sherlock..."

"And still he went after him?" John looked between the brothers, understanding at Mycroft's over protectiveness now making sense. Looking closer at Mycroft, John frowned, brow furrowing in concentration. "Exactly, how long were you in the asylum, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up at John, eyes wide and haunted. "Six and a half months."

Letting out a soft sound of anger, John moved closer to Sherlock. "How in the hell was it explained to your parents? Six and a half months? My mum would have New Scotland Yard out looking for us if we had been missing that long." At the silence of both brothers, John looked over at Greg, his frown deepening.

"Unless you were already staying with him at the time." Greg watched Mycroft closely. He noticed the trembling hands and pale face. "Your parents pushed for the betrothal, knowing one of the stipulations in a _traditional_ betrothal..."

"Was to allow the couple some time alone at a place of their choosing." John shook his head, aware of the traditions most families of the peerage followed. "Your parents believed this man would not harm you?"

"I was not supposed to have been there but Mycroft..." Sherlock looked from John to his brother then back. "He is my older brother, I have spent most of my life knowing nothing other than what it was like to have him in my life. To suddenly have him...taken, from me..." Taking a calming breath, Sherlock looked up at John, holding the blue gaze. "He was all I had and to a youth who knows no other affection..."

"I understand, I probably would have done the same thing if it were Harry." John sighed as he sat down next to Sherlock. "So, because you followed Mycroft this...Abraham person had you committed?"

"It was...he-he did not enjoy the idea of his plans having to be altered. I preferred the company of my brother to that of Abraham's." Mycroft answered softly. He was aware of the dark haired man standing silently next to him. "I was, uncomfortable, with any form of contact other than an occasional hug from anyone other than family. To have Sherlock there helped but it did not deter Abraham from trying to..." Shaking his head, Mycroft let out a shaky breath. "Sherlock found me...after he...I-I did not wish for him to force himself on my brother, so I did as Siggerson instructed."

Greg frowned at the soft voice, the story being told by the brothers was making his blood boil and stomach churn. "How did your parents justify such behavior? To have their youngest committed while raping the oldest? What was the justification for his actions?"

"The match between the families was beneficial for both parties, meaning Abraham's evil and twisted behavior was kept hidden while our family rose in prominence." Sherlock looked at his hands, clenched tight in his lap as he forced himself to remain still. "Siggerson did not believe us at first, not until mummy showed him the paperwork but by then..." Glancing up at his brother, Sherlock sighed. "I could not protect Mycroft from harm so I try to do so now. I am not entirely successful, however I do make the effort. He is the only person in my life to care for me unconditionally."

Mycroft kept his gaze focused on the glass in front of him, heart racing at the heat of the body next to him. "He has tried to harm Sherlock more than once. We thought we were finally free of him when his family had him committed after..." Mycroft broke off, finishing the rest of his drink he poured another shot then finished it in quick succession.

Greg studied the tall, silent ginger next to him. "After he forced you his family had him committed." Voice soft, Greg watched as a pale hand trembled, clenched tightly around his tumbler. "He tried to force Sherlock into silence didn't he?" When Mycroft nodded, Greg let out a harsh breath. "Well then, we will simply make sure things get fixed properly. I take it the school isn't aware of the history between you three?"

"No, it was not my desire to bring unwanted attention to either myself or Sherlock." Mycroft looked up at Greg, holding the dark, worried gaze. "It is not something I am very proud of and with Sherlock having just been accepted..."

"We won't bring any attention to either of you but I am not letting Sherlock stay in that class without one of us with him."

Mycroft turned to the blond sitting next to his younger brother. He would admit to a moment of adoration for Abraham. Until he'd first hit him, then Mycroft had begun to wonder. Was it him or was it something else? Did Abraham truly care or...

"It is no longer an issue, Mycroft. Lestrade and John will both make sure nothing happens to us."

Blinking, Mycroft was surprised to find Sherlock standing directly in front of him. "Sherlock?"

"He can no longer harm us, not here. We have worked to hard to go back to where we once were. If we allow him to get in our heads again..."

Shaking his head, Mycroft frowned. "No, I...i-it is not that, I simply wish you did not have to be subject to any of this." Stepping back from the counter, Mycroft gave Sherlock a shaky smile. "Our guests are hungry, it is rude of us not to provide something to eat." At his brother's small nod, Mycroft let out a soft breath. "Come, let us find the nearest restaurant that delivers and figure out what to eat." At the agreeing nod, Mycroft gave Sherlock a small smile. He'd promised himself a long time ago to never let anyone harm Sherlock...he never thought the one he would have to protect his brother from, would be himself.


	8. Unasked Questions - Unquestioned Answers

"_Mycroft?!"_

Mycroft shifted against the sheets. His eyes burned, his throat was scratchy, and his mouth was dry. Letting out a soft groan, Mycroft slowly opened his eyes as his brother's voice echoed downstairs.

_"__Mycroft are you here?!"_

Frowning, Mycroft looked around the room as he slowly sat up. Shaking his head, he tried to clear it as he looked for Greg. "Gregory?" Mycroft jerked around as the bedroom door hit the wall with a bang. Blinking in surprise, Mycroft left the bed. "Sherlock, what on earth..."

"You were not answering your phone! There has never been a time where you never answer one of my calls unless you are upset with me or unable to but you _always_ call back and you did not do so!" Sherlock stood in the doorway, watching as Mycroft slowly stumbled from the bed. "John said you left hospital, but he was unsure as to where you had gone. Why would you not say you were coming back to the townhouse? If I had known..."

Mycroft stopped the rushed statements with a soft shushing as he gently pulled Sherlock closer. His brother was alive, the proof was in front of him as he tightened his hold. "Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you, I simply..." Mycroft broke off with a tired sigh. "The doctors felt I needed to be at home to rest. Gregory is supposed to have surgery later today and you..." Stepping back, Mycroft studied Sherlock. "You are not supposed to be here, I am sure John is worried about you." Despite the frown, Sherlock was pale and his eyes were slightly clouded with pain.

"I had to be sure...I-I did not wish to wait to see if you were alright. John will understand, he has known me long enough..." Sherlock broke off at the sound of John's angry voice downstairs.

_"__William Sherlock Scott Holmes! I swear if I find your bloody arse here so help me..."_

Mycroft let out a soft sigh. "He does not sound pleased at all little brother, maybe you should..."

_"__Mycroft if he is here..."_

"We are upstairs, John, I had to check on Mycroft!" Sherlock held his brother's gaze, looking for any signs as to how he were feeling. "Why did you not answer your phone? Did you take..."

"No, Sherlock I did not and my phone..." Mycroft looked around the room, frowning as he tried to remember where he'd left his cell. "My phone is in my coat pocket, I never put it on the charger last night." Reaching for his trench coat, Mycroft sighed. "The battery died." Voice soft he turned to see John now standing in the doorway. "Doctor Watson."

John glared at Sherlock then Mycroft. "Just what is it with you two? _You_..." John pointed an angry finger at Sherlock. "Are supposed to be in hospital recovering. And you..." He turned to Mycroft, expression softening as he studied the other. "How are you doing, Greg has surgery in a few hours, yeah?"

Mycroft nodded, turning to plug up his phone. "The doctors feel there is a chance..." Taking a deep breath, he turned to John. "Would it be possible, Doctor Watson, for you to assist in Gregory's procedure?" Mycroft held the blue gaze, aware that he was asking a lot from John. "You have known him for most of his life, I can not simply trust him to people who..." Shaking his head, Mycroft walked over to the dresser. "His doctors believe Gregory will lose the use of his legs, I do not agree. He deserves the best chance possible and I believe that chance is with you." Opening the top drawer, Mycroft pulled out a small photo and turned to John. "He told me about both his and your time in the war. How you were able to save so many in some of the worst conditions." Looking up, Mycroft gave John a small smile. "Your reputation, John, has followed you even in the highest of circles. The lives you saved and the methods you used..."

"Were under the worst conditions possible and in the middle of a war!" John threw up his hands as he looked at Mycroft closely. "I didn't do it because I felt the need to, I did it because they needed to believe that someone cared. Those soldiers needed a reason to continue to fight even if it meant stitching their legs and arms back on. And even then not all of them made it so my efforts..." John shook his head as he looked from Sherlock to Mycroft. "My efforts shouldn't be made to be more than what they really were, an effort."

"Any effort that is made is better than no effort at all. I can not stand by and not try and give my husband every opportunity possible." Turning to the closet, Mycroft sighed. Setting the small photo down next to his cuff links, he studied the two smiling faces. The photo had been taken shortly before his accident, after Siggerson had lied...Turning away from the picture, Mycroft looked up at the silence in the room. He could see Sherlock and John standing in the hallway. From the looks on their faces and John's hand movements, Mycroft knew they were arguing.

Shaking his head, he turned back to his side of the walk in, frowning as he tried to decide what to wear. He didn't have the heart to put on his usual attire, despite knowing he would feel more comfortable in a suit. Today, he didn't have the heart to be Mycroft Holmes, British Government. Today...today he simply wanted to be Mycroft Holmes-Lestrade, worried husband and brother.

"Mycroft?"

Looking up and around the door frame, Mycroft gave Sherlock a small smile. "Would it be to bold of me to wear something other than a suit? Maybe a polo and slacks, Gregory always says..." Breaking off, Mycroft let out a soft sigh. Greg loved how he looked in slacks. Shaking his head, he reached for a dark gray sweater and a pair of charcoal gray slacks. "Your silence is extremely worrying, little brother, are you alright?"

Sherlock glanced back at the stairs before slowly walking into Mycroft's room. He waited until his brother walked out of the closet before responding. "John is upset with me for having left hospital."

Mycroft adjusted his sweater before turning to the mirror. "He is your partner, Sherlock, he would understandably be upset about your health." He glanced up at the reflection of Sherlock behind him. "Even if you are worried about me, you should have remained. I would have returned either way." Smoothing down the soft wool, Mycroft looked up at Sherlock's silence. "Sherlock what..."

_"__Oui, just who do you think you are to..."_

"John?" Sherlock glanced back at Mycroft before turning and heading towards the stairs. "Is everything alright?" At the sounds of a scuffle, Sherlock quickened his pace. "John, answer me, are you al..." He was cut off as a shot rang out in the silent house. Letting out a harsh breath, Sherlock looked behind him to see Mycroft standing in the bedroom doorway. "Were you expecting anyone?"

"No, I was going to be at hospital with you and Gregory." Studying his brother's pale face, he started in surprise when John's angry voice floated upstairs.

_"__Who are you and just why in the bloody hell are you shooting inside the house! No, no, let go of me! I am not going anywhere with you! You crazy, brainwashed bastard, I said..."_

Sherlock turned back towards the stairs, taking them two at a time until another shot rang out. This one closer, almost hitting Sherlock in the arm. "John, are you alright?!" Pressing against the wall, Sherlock tried to stay out of sight of the shooter. "John?" When he was greeted with silence, Sherlock felt his pulse quicken. "John, answer me, please!" Forcing back the small tendril of worry, Sherlock slowly eased forward to look over the banister. He could see the over turned table and broken glass strewn across the floor. Looking around quickly, he slowly stood up only to be shot at again. Looking back up the stairs, Sherlock forced back an angry yell. He wondered where his brother was and why John wasn't responding. Slowly making his way down the stairs, Sherlock let out a soft breath of surprise when he saw blood on the floor. "John?!"

Mycroft reached under the bed and pulled out a metal box. Punching in the code, he opened the gray gun case, pulling out the small silver pistol and matching clip. Turning, he reached for his cell and keys. "Sherlock?!" After making sure he had what he needed, Mycroft glanced around the door frame. He couldn't see his brother but he could hear the sounds from a struggle outside. Leaving the room, he made his way over to the window and looked out, starting in surprise at the small group below. "John?" He moved forward, watching the men below load an unconscious John Watson into a black van.

Pushing open the glass, Mycroft leaned out but was stopped as a bullet bounced off the brick above his head. Moving back, he turned and headed to the stairs. "Sherlock?" Glancing around the corner, he saw his brother at the bottom, coat wrapped tightly around him. "Sherlock, they are trying to take John."

Giving him an angry glare, Sherlock nodded. "I know, we must get him back, Mycroft. If we do not..."

"We will, little brother, do not worry. Right now we need to find the shooter. They are not in the yard or with the others. There must be a sniper on one of the adjoining roofs." Slowly moving down the stairs, Mycroft stayed low until he reached Sherlock. "Do you see a way to get across the foyer without being seen?"

"I have tired, they keep shooting at me." Looking up at his brother, Sherlock felt his stomach clench. "If I had stayed at hospital none..." He was interrupted by the sound of Mycroft's cell. Shaking his head, Sherlock turned back towards the front door and the two men standing there. "We need to get past them, if there is any chance of us getting John back, we need..." He stopped at the soft sound of distress behind him. Looking up, he saw the look on his brother's now pale face. "Mycroft, is everything alright?"

"How did this happen, there was a guard posted in front of his room." Glancing at Sherlock, Mycroft tried to control the hot roll of anger twisting through him. "Find out who saw him last and find the security footage. _Someone_ has to have seen something." Shaking his head in agitation, Mycroft let out a soft breath of anger. "No, we will deal with things here just find out where my husband is." Disconnecting the call, Mycroft forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. Looking up, he could see the worry in his brothers eyes. "We will worry about getting John back first." His heart was racing, the fear of losing Greg again was very real for him but the fear in Sherlock's eyes... "I swear to you, I will do everything I can to make sure you do not lose him again."

Sherlock nodded, aware that they were once again being forced into situations not of their own making. "We must get to hospital, if Lestrade is missing..."

Shaking his head, Mycroft slowly moved in front of Sherlock. "Stay behind me, the men who took John were in a van and have a sniper on one of the rooftops across the street." He whispered, unsure if there were others in the house. "Do you remember what you saw or heard?"

"There are two at the front door and I believe one at the back. John was arguing with two men dressed in black outfits and no head gear." Slowly easing forward, Sherlock listened for any sounds of movement. When he was greeted with silence, both he and Mycroft moved off of the stairs and crept up silently behind their unwanted guests. Giving Mycroft a quick glance, Sherlock moved before the guard in front of him realized what was going on.

Mycroft grabbed the man in front of him. Wrapping an arm around his neck, Mycroft tightened his hold until the other man went limp. He lowered the unconscious man before turning to Sherlock. "Sherlock?"

"The van, we need to get to John before they can leave." Looking around the door, Sherlock could see the back of the van, doors partially open. "They are waiting for someone but whom? Why have they not left yet?"

Glancing behind them, Mycroft followed Sherlock out the front door, crouching behind a pillar for cover. "Do you see the sniper? He shot at me from across the street."

Shaking his head, Sherlock scanned the adjacent buildings. "I do not see anyone." He slowly moved out from behind the pillar, keeping low to the ground to avoid being seen. Making his way to the van, Sherlock listened to the silence. Frowning, he glanced back at Mycroft. "Are you certain they put John in the van, the silence..."

Suddenly, the sound of a clock ticking echoed from in front of Sherlock. Turning, Sherlock, stepped back from the van. "What is it they are after Mycroft, if they have taken Lestrade and now John, what do you have or what have you done..."

"Nothing! Sherlock I have done nothing and nothing has been taken, there is no reason for them to come to the house! Unless..." Mycroft frowned as they both moved back towards the house. "Could it have something to do with the case Gregory was working on?"

"Lestrade brings cases home?" Sherlock turned towards the study, his bright gaze moving around him as they moved silently. "Of course he would, there has been suspicions of a leak at the Yard for months." Pulling on his bottom lip, Sherlock frowned in concentration. "The last thing we found was a bullet and note..."

"Gregory said that in your most recent case, you did not believe the writer wrote the note willingly." Mycroft looked down the dark hallway, a frown curving his lips down as he studied the shadows. "He said the concern was that the author was not fully lucid."

Sherlock straightened as he looked at Mycroft. "The usual idea behind a suicide note is that the person did so willingly. The hand writing, it was as if they were being _forced_ to write it."

Mycroft pulled Sherlock behind hi as they moved down the darkened hallway. Despite it being early morning, the sky was overcast with clouds and the morning air was chill. "Stay close Sherlock, the ticking has gotten louder from the van and we must leave."

Sherlock followed Mycroft, glancing back behind him. He knew that who ever had taken John and Greg was connected to their current case. The only questions he had were how and why take Greg and John?


	9. A Discussion of Feelings

Forty-eight hours later and there was still no word or sign of John and Greg. Glaring at the passing street lights, Sherlock ignored his brother for his own thoughts. He couldn't figure out who had taken them or why. Why were John and Greg targeted if they were after Sherlock or Mycroft?

Sighing in frustration, Sherlock glanced over at his brother, surprised to see the frown curving his lips down. They had been able to leave the house before the van exploded, leaving a large, gaping hole where the front door had once been. Once in the car and on the road, Mycroft had gone silent, keeping his thoughts to himself. Studying the other, Sherlock noticed that Mycroft was more worried than he was upset. "Mycroft, do you remember when you first started dating Lestrade?"

Looking up from his phone, Mycroft frowned in thought. "We were invited to the Winter Ball, I believe. Gregory insisted that we both go and you refused unless John were going as your date."

Sherlock watched the small smile that curved Mycroft's lips. "It was a good evening, despite the minor trouble we ran into."

Mycroft shook his head as he turned back to his phone. "The only issue we ran into was your refusal to wear the proper attire for such an occasion. It took the combined efforts of John _and_ Gregory for you to put on a tuxedo." Forcing back a smile, Mycroft shook his head as he glanced up at Sherlock. "You were dressed rather smartly and I do believe John enjoyed seeing you in your tux."

Sherlock chuckled softly, fingers running through his curls as he thought about their first school dance. "I did not see why I had to wear one if I was not a senior but as it was pointed out to me, that is how most people would be dressed. John felt I would not blend in well in just my coat and slacks." Staring out the window, Sherlock let his thoughts drift back to that night. "If we had known then..."

Mycroft cut Sherlock off with a soft sound. "But we did not, little brother, so no use dwelling on things we can no longer change." Looking up, Mycroft frowned at Sherlock's pale face. "Are you feeling unwell, Sherlock? Should we have..."

"No, I am fine, I just want John back." Voice low, Sherlock glanced down at his hands, fingers clenched tightly in his lap as he forced his thoughts to slow down. "There is one more possibility, Mycroft. One that concerns this new case and I am sure Lestrade did not tell you about it."

Frowning, Mycroft waited as Sherlock seemed to turn into himself. The usually bright, alert verdigris eyes were dull with pain and worry. He didn't miss the pale face or the nervous fidgeting and wondered what was on his brother's mind. Sherlock never spoke about the past unless there was a specific reason to do so. "Who do you think it could be, Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned, eyes scanning the passing street as they left London. "When was the last time we heard anything concerning Abraham or his families where abouts?" Sherlock remembered seeing the family crest on a letterhead at their previous crime scene. Something that normally wouldn't have been noticed except Greg had noticed.

"He was killed in a car accident shortly before you graduated, Sherlock. Do you not remember the telegram we received?" Shaking his head, Mycroft felt his frown deepen. "Why do you ask, is there something that makes you think differently?"

"The last crime scene we visited had been familiar. It would have been ordinary if the staging hadn't had it's flaws." Sherlock studied an empty building while they sat at a light. "The night of your...accident, I found a telegram..."

Mycroft sucked in a quick breath, forcing himself to keep his features neutral. "The one concerning Gregory?"

"Yes, it stated he had been killed in action. None of my letters from John mentioned the death of Lestrade." Voice soft, Sherlock turned to his brother. "The scene was not your bedroom, of course, but the positioning of the body and the way everything had been laid out..." Shaking his head, Sherlock could remember his reaction to seeing everything setup. "It could simply have been coincidence..."

"_We_ do not believe in coincidences, Sherlock." Mycroft felt his stomach flutter as he sent a text off to Anthea. "Do you believe it was someone in Abraham's family?"

"Who else would hold a grudge for so long? Abraham's death was never solved and a body was never found, there is a chance that he _could_ have survived." Studying Mycroft, Sherlock noticed the uneasiness that suddenly surrounded his brother. "Mycroft?"

"I received a package, a late anniverssary gift, last week at the office. I asked Gregory if he knew the sender but..." Frowning, Mycroft glanced over at the small lock box in front of them. "There was no forwarding address just a card with a name on it. I had it analyzed but could not find where it had come from."

Shaking his head, Sherlock watched as Mycroft unlocked the small box in front of them. "The contents, Mycroft, what were they?"

"A letter, a photo, and..." Lifting the lid, Mycroft jerked back in surprise. "Our original marriage certificate." Voice soft, he stared down at the contents in front of him. "The letter had been written by Gregory before he was deployed overseas. The photo..." Breaking off, Mycroft glanced up at Sherlock. "I had only seen Gregory in his uniform once, the photo showed him..." Looking back down, he frowned. "The photo was of Gregory and his platoon, before they were attacked."

"Lestrade was a prisoner of war, correct? Would there be anyone else who might have a grudge against you or your husband?" Sherlock watched as Mycroft reached into the box, his hands were shaking and his pupils had dilated. "Mycroft, was there..."

"He swore he would get his revenge for having refused him." Shaking his head, Mycroft sighed. "I had thought he had done so when Gregory was reported killed." He lifted a piece of paper out of the box, eyes moving over the yellowed sheet and familiar handwriting. "Siggerson swore I deserved what ever I went through for refusing Abraham. He felt I had thrown my life away marrying Gregory."

"He was wrong." Voice soft, Sherlock studied his brother's profile. "Lestrade has made you stronger as John has made me. We were missing what they brought into our lives." Letting out a rough sigh, Sherlock shook his head. "We _needed_ what they gave us and continue to do so everyday."

"We must find them, Sherlock." Holding the frayed and faded photo, Mycroft stared at the smiling man looking back at him. He knew that even if John and Greg were together, without the proper medical care he could lose his husband. "Do you believe..." He looked up at Sherlock, not surprised to see him on his phone. "Will she come?"

"Yes, if for no other reason than because we are family." Sherlock frowned at the last message, aware of their last meeting with his friend. "Do you forgive us for not having gotten involved sooner?"

Mycroft frowned at the question before studying Sherlock closer. "She believes I hold you both responsible?"

"If we had been there, you would not have done something so..." Breaking off, Sherlock shook his head as he looked out at the dark night. "I did not know how to help you, Mycroft, not when I could not understand my own feelings." Sighing, Sherlock turned to face his brother, knowing that they both had trouble discussing emotions. "It has been years since I graduated from University and never have we discussed what happened. Why did you do it, Mycroft? Why did you find it so easy to leave me behind?"

Mycroft sucked in a quick breath, forcing himself to remain calm. Hands trembling, he tried to think of the best way to explain what he was feeling. His pain at finding out Greg had been killed and he was now alone, again. "It was not an _easy_ decision, Sherlock. I did not _wish_ to leave you but the pain I felt at the loss of Gregory..." How could he explain it? How did he explain to Sherlock what he was feeling and he had never fully thought about it himself? "You are my brother and I will do anything I can to protect you or to see you happy. When John was sent to war, I saw the change in you. You became almost reclusive in your desire to be alone, nothing I could do would reach you and then I received the telegram..." Taking a deep breath, Mycroft shook his head. "I felt alone in my desire to help you and in my grief over Gregory. I simply wanted a way to escape the turmoil in my heart and mind."

Biting his bottom lip, Sherlock reached over and brushed a hand over Mycroft's. "It was not my intention to have shut you out, Mycroft. Without John I did not know how to express myself so I turned to my violin. When that wasn't enough..."

Mycroft felt the familiar clench of fear in his stomach as he thought back to before John's return. "I thought I had done enough by making sure your friends were around. You seemed agitated at my presences so I believed it to be best..." Shaking his head, Mycroft forced a smile to his lips. "That is the past, right now..."

"Damn it Mycroft, right now the past could very well help us with the present! He has taken both Lestrade and John from us and if we do not figure out why..."

"Because I refused him even after finding out Gregory was presumed dead." Mycroft held a small green velvet box in his hands. Lifting the lid, he felt his vision blur as a ringing started in his ears. "He swore I would regret choosing another over him. That I would never be happy as long as he lived." He stared at the intricate ring, a gift from a man who thought he could buy love and loyalty. "I could not let go of my feelings for Gregory, no matter what Abraham threatened me with. Until he tried to use you again."

Shaking his head, Sherlock let his mind go over everything he knew or had ever been told about Lord Abraham James. "They never did find the body, Mycroft. If there is a chance..."

"If she is willing to help us then we have nothing to worry about. I will have Anthea meet us at the family house in Sussex with everything we need." Mycroft could hear the thread of fear in Sherlock's voice, knew his own lack of emotional control was just as tenuous. "If she feels the desire to remain where she is..."

"No, she will be here no matter what." Sherlock sighed as he turned to study the outside scenery. "We will simply have to wait until she decides to meet us in Sussex."

Mycroft nodded, thoughts drifting back to the time in question. His first date with Greg had been before the school dance. During a night where the rain had made it impossible to see and the wind had taken their breath away. It had stormed that night, forcing Mycroft and Greg to seek shelter at a nearby inn. Most would have thought the night had been a waste. For Mycroft, it had been an awakening. The first real kiss he'd ever been given had been in the doorway of a quaint little inn with white washed walls and little blue shutters. The rain had soaked through their clothing, but the only thing that had mattered was the raven headed man pressed against him, and the pleasure he had given to one whose life had been devoid of so much.


End file.
